Dany couldn’t disagree with Ma Ling’s insight. She knew her foster mother was showing her concern for her. Ma Ling was always there for her if she needed a pep talk, a hug or words of wisdom. It was unbearable to think what might happen if the plantation was stolen out from beneath them. What would happen to the fifty families who had been a part of the Villard way of life since the 1930s? The mere thought brought on the worst kind of pain Dany had ever felt in her life.
“I have to trust Gib on this. In my heart, I believe he’s on our side.”
Ma Ling smiled and gave Dany’s hand one last squeeze before she stiffly rose to her feet. “Ever since you were born I have wished for only one thing for you, my daughter. I have wished that you would know true happiness, because you’ve always done so much for all of us without thought or regard for your own needs.”
Dany sat alone in the drawing room after Ma Ling left, her hands folded in the lap of her dark blue pajamas. She hung her head, overwhelmed with fear, anxiety and worry. Yet, through it all, she clung to the memory of Gib’s face. Tomorrow couldn’t come too soon. Perhaps Dany could convince General Hunter to change his mind. Perhaps.
*
Gib stood when he saw Dany come out of General Hunter’s richly appointed office at the end of the hall. Since this was official business, he had changed out of his comfortable dark green flight suit after landing at Tan Son Nhut air base, and into his summer uniform. The short-sleeved tan shirt and tan pants were crisply starched. He gripped his utility cap tightly, seeing even at a distance the look on Dany’s face.
Despite her disappointed expression, she looked fresh and lovely in a sleeveless white dress with an Empire waistline that complimented her height and slenderness. Dark blue piping around the throat and down the center of the dress made it look more businesslike, and Dany had accented it with navy blue heels and a small leather handbag of the same color. The earrings she wore were of lapis lazuli surrounded with gold. Even her hair had been carefully arranged into a French roll, the wispy bangs barely touching her brows. Gib had had one hell of a time keeping his eyes off Dany throughout their flight and drive here. Now, as she walked out of the office, other passing marines gave her appreciative looks, and Dany blushed furiously. Gib wished mightily that their two days in Saigon weren’t business, but pleasure.
The spacious hall of the Logistics HQ building was laid with dark green and ivory floor tile. Gib walked forward, meeting Dany halfway. He gave her a slight smile of welcome and settled the hat on his head as they continued slowly on their way.
“How did it go?” he asked, although her expression foretold her response.
She grimaced. There were too many marines around, and she didn’t want her comments to be overheard. “I’ll tell you in a few minutes.”
Gib nodded, realizing Dany wasn’t really comfortable in a military environment. Her trust extended only to him, not to the men in the hall around them. He guided her to the elevator, where they waited with seven other marines dressed in carefully starched, perfectly ironed uniforms. It was a far cry from Marble Mountain, Gib thought, looking around at the young, eager faces of the officers. Every marine gawked at Dany. Gib smiled to himself. When the doors whooshed open, he cupped her elbow and helped her into the elevator.
Gib could feel Dany trembling. It wasn’t obvious, but his senses were acutely tuned to her. She stood head high, eyes staring straight ahead at the brass doors, her purse gripped tightly in front of her. The humidity made the air as spongelike in Saigon as it was up north. Gib wanted to get out of his uniform and into civilian clothes, an act which wouldn’t be long in coming. It was noon, and he decided that they should go back to the Caravelle Hotel, where he’d gotten two rooms. He would change into civilian clothes and they’d have lunch. Then he’d take her to the French embassy.
As they left the building, the odors of Saigon assailed Gib’s nose. He hailed a taxi from the corner, thinking that although Saigon, with its French-colonial beauty and its colorful bougainvillea climbing pastel stucco walls, was called the flower of the Orient, it was more garbage dump than paradise. Once Saigon had been a city of flowering orchids, thus gaining its name. But as foreign influence came in, the city had begun to decay. Gib didn’t know how anyone could overlook the obvious squalor and poor sanitation conditions in lieu of Saigon’s supposed “beauty.”
As he ushered Dany into the cab and sat down beside her, he winced at the odor of human waste combined with the acrid smell of car exhaust that hung continually over the sprawling, decadent city. The only relief from it all was Dany’s clean smell, and the lily-of-the-valley perfume she wore.
After instructing the cabbie to drive them to the hotel, Gib turned his attention to Dany. “Well?” he asked, picking up her hand and holding it. “What happened?”
Gib’s hand was warm and steadying. “General Hunter was very nice, very smooth and political, with all the right answers and smiles, but the bottom line is he wants my home, Gib.” Her lower lip trembled. “Damn him.”
Fortunately the Caravelle wasn’t far away. Paying the cab driver in piasters, Gib took Dany inside the spacious hotel and over to the bank of elevators. He had to keep his hands off her in public, when in reality he wanted to slide his arm around her shoulders, draw her next to him and simply hold her. She was devastated, her once proudly held shoulders now drooping with the terrible weight of reality.
At the fifth floor, they got off the elevator. Gib reclaimed her damp, cool hand as they walked down the Oriental-rug-carpeted hall toward their rooms.
“I want to get out of this uniform before we eat, Dany.” He slanted a glance down at her dejected features.
“I’m not really very hungry, Gib.”
“You’re going to eat.”
She lifted her chin and held his warm hazel gaze. “Is that an order, Major?”
He halted at his room and opened the door. “You’d better believe it. Come on in. This will only take a minute.”
Dany entered Gib’s suite and stood near the huge bed as he shed the shirt, now stained with sweat. At the sight of him in his T-shirt, she was struck more strongly than ever by his sheer masculinity. Gib was powerfully built despite his height, and Dany felt sudden, unexpected heat rise within her. The white T-shirt outlined his massive chest and powerful shoulders to breathtaking perfection. Gib seemed completely oblivious to her inspection of him as he dug through the small leather bag he’d brought, hunting for a set of civilian clothes.
Her mouth suddenly dry, Dany moved away from the brass double bed and over to the open balcony doors overlooking the fenced swimming pool below. Her heart was beating erratically in her breast, and the realization she was in his room shook Dany. It had seemed so natural to follow him in here while he changed clothes. But there was nothing appropriate about it, according to her strict upbringing. Walking out onto the small wrought-iron balcony, Dany rested her hand against the sun-warmed rail. Moments later, she felt Gib come up behind her.
“Ready?” he asked.
Dany turned. The heated, naked look Gib gave her made her feel as if she were melting on the spot. The blazing hunger of his inspection reminded her all over again of the wild, starving kisses they’d traded at the plantation.
Dany tried to escape the heat flowing through her. She did her best to focus on how Gib was dressed to casual perfection in a light blue button-down shirt and charcoal gray slacks. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Dany’s cheeks were rose-petal pink, enhancing her delicate features. When her lips unconsciously parted as she turned toward him, Gib groaned inwardly. The scorching thought that he could sweep her into his arms, carry her to his bed and make long, slow love to her all afternoon left him dizzy with longing. He ached to reach out and tame several loose ebony tendrils into place against her temple.
Dany lowered her lashes, wildly aware of Gib as a man, as someone she desperately wanted to explore, to know on so many other levels. Gripping her small bag, she ease
d past him, her bare shoulder grazing his chest as she slipped through the sliding glass door into the room.
Gib found himself holding his breath as Dany’s shoulder touched him. His skin prickled beneath his shirt, and he forced himself to get a grip on his unraveling emotions. He picked up his wallet from the top of the dresser and settled it into his back pocket. Giving her a smile, he whispered, “Let’s go have lunch together.”
*
“You’ve barely touched your salad, Dany.”
“I know.” She forced herself to use the fork to stab some lettuce and baby shrimp.
Gib looked around the spacious, modern restaurant. The Caravelle was a popular American business hotel, with frequent travelers from stateside. The large-windowed room was tastefully arranged with tropical plants, the small tables decorated with fresh flowers and white linen. Comfortable bamboo furniture with jade green cushions graced the quiet place—a haven compared to the war escalating beyond the hotel’s doors, Gib thought.
He focused his attention on Dany. “Come on, you have to eat enough to keep your strength up for Monsieur Gerard,” Gib said, referring to the ambassador’s assistant that Dany had made an appointment with.
Trying to smile for Gib’s benefit, Dany ate a few more bites before pushing the plate away. A waiter dressed in white jacket, black slacks and a long white apron whisked it from the table. Dany studied Gib’s features. Today the look of exhaustion had lifted from his darkly tanned features. Instead, she saw happiness glinting in his eyes, and her spirits lightened.
“You’re happy.”
“Why shouldn’t I be?” Gib teased her. “I’m with you.”
Dany looked around the serene restaurant. “This would have been a fun trip if it wasn’t over such a serious matter.”
Reaching out, Gib captured her hand. “Honey, I’m glad to be with you no matter what the reason. Okay?”
She forced a small smile and squeezed his fingers. “Okay.”
Changing the subject, he asked, “Have you ever come close to marriage?”
Dany eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. “Twice,” she admitted.
“And?”
With a shrug, Dany muttered, “It didn’t work out. They were Frenchmen who didn’t want to live in Vietnam. I refused to live in France.” She held his gaze. “What about you? Why aren’t you married?”
It bothered Gib that Dany wouldn’t consider leaving this country. Trying to put aside his disappointment, he said, “Guess I just never met the lady that would knock me off my feet like a Texas thunderstorm and leave me breathless.” Until now. The desire to cherish Dany, to continue the easy intimacy she brought out in him was something he never wanted to let go.
His eyes narrowed as he met and held her warm gaze. The dream of loving Dany, of marrying her, flowed through Gib like a quiet, deep river. He’d never held onto a dream of marriage because of his career and its demands. Marriage had never seemed essential to his lifestyle—until this very moment. Now, as Gib drowned in Dany’s lambent gaze, he knew this was the woman he wanted for himself—forever. But he couldn’t admit any of his sudden discoveries to her. They were too fresh, too exhilarating, too filled with hope and very real fear.
Dany smiled. There was such utter humility about Gib. There was a simpleness to him she liked so much that it set her heart to beating harder in her breast. “You have a lot to offer a woman.”
“What? Change of bases every two to three years? Me being gone half the time?” Gib shook his head and tried to combat the image of Dany loving him, wanting to marry him as much as he did her. “No, the women I’ve been close to in the past have all had a problem with my career, and I can’t say I blame them. Sinking roots is important, and so is staying in one place instead of being a tumbleweed in the wind.”
“You could always get out and return to ranching. I’m sure that would appeal to a woman.”
“Maybe you’re right, honey. Maybe I’m being selfish about all this. My love of flying is in my blood.”
“But the land is in your blood, too.”
He nodded pensively. “Yeah, I spilled lots of blood on the ranch, mostly from the blisters on my hands. No, you’re right—the ranch is a large part of me, too. I just haven’t figured out a way to have both in my life. I had to make a decision, and I chose flying.”
“Do you ever regret that decision, Gib?”
He regretted it right now in ways he’d never thought possible. Suddenly Dany seemed as important to him as breathing. “Yeah, this last tour in Vietnam, I have.”
“How so?”
“I came over here in 1963, when we had only American advisors in Vietnam. I liked what we did in working alongside the ARVN and the people of the hamlets and villages.” He frowned and looked beyond her. “I like helping people, but I don’t like having to kill. Maybe some of these chopper jockies enjoy the excitement and danger, but I don’t. There are stories going around that some of the door gunners on these helicopters are starting to fire indiscriminately at anyone in a rice paddy. That isn’t right. Not every Vietnamese farmer is VC. This whole thing’s getting out of hand. I had one door gunner come to me the other day in confidence and tell me he wasn’t going to fly with a certain pilot because he’d ordered him to shoot at any water buffalo, kid and old person he spotted working out in the paddies.”
Taking a deep breath, Dany whispered, “My God. What did you do?”
“I called in the pilot who was doing it and asked him if it was true,” Gib said grimly. “He said it was. I chewed him out, but he got angry.”
“Whatever for?”
“Because he felt it was his right to kill. He said we were in a wartime situation and all Vietnamese were VC in one form or another.”
“That isn’t true!” Dany cried. “The peasants have survived because they offered no overt resistance to those who’ve struggled to take power. Just because we don’t fight the VC doesn’t mean we agree with their political beliefs or methods, Gib. The peasants have learned over thousands of years that pacifism has allowed them to survive where nothing else would.”
“I understand that,” he soothed, seeing how distraught she’d become. “I placed the pilot on flight waivers, and there will be an investigation. I’m doing what I can, Dany, but I’m one person among a bunch of people who view this as a war where every Vietnamese is beginning to look like the enemy.”
Dany sat in silence, absorbing his story. “At least there are some men like you.” She was touched by his humanity, but at the same time her tenuous hope that there could be something lasting between them was dashed. He was a warrior—a tumbleweed. When his tour was up, Gib would leave Vietnam—and her.
A desperation filled Dany. No matter how strong the warnings from her head, her heart and body cried out for him. Hour by hour she was rapidly losing all her defenses against him.
Gib’s mouth pulled into a grimace. He rallied and gave her a smile. “Ready to take on the French, Miss Villard?”
“Ready, Major.”
*
“And so,” Philipe Gerard told them across an ornate antique table, “I will do what I can for you, Mademoiselle Villard.”
Trying to hold on to her surprise, Dany stared across the table. “You think the American embassy might listen to you?”
Gerard, thin and thirtyish, his black mustache and eyes giving him an intense cast, shrugged eloquently. “No promises, mademoiselle, but you are a French citizen and this is a French plantation.”
Gib leaned forward, afraid to hope for Dany. “Even if Miss Villard carries dual citizenship with France and America? You don’t feel this can hurt her case?”
Again, Gerard shrugged. “I should think not, Major Ramsey. But who knows? All we can do is delicately investigate this issue and try to intercede in Mademoiselle Villard’s behalf.”
Dany rose and gripped Gerard’s hand. “Thank you, Monsieur Gerard. You don’t know how good this makes me feel.”
Gib shook the assistant ambassador’s
hand and gave him a nod. If the Marine Corps ever found out he was here in the French embassy conspiring to help save Dany’s home, all hell would break loose. Still, looking at her glowing face, her beautiful eyes filled with hope, Gib knew he wouldn’t want to be any other place than at her side at this moment.
“Adieu,” Gerard called to them. “I will be in contact with you as soon as possible, Mademoiselle Villard.”
Dany smiled and forced back the tears that threatened. “I can hardly wait! Thanks so much.”
It was nearly three o’clock as they left the French embassy. On the marble steps of the consulate, Dany gripped Gib’s hand and smiled up at him.
“I can’t believe it! There’s hope, Gib. Real hope!”
“That’s the best news yet,” he agreed, hailing another cab as they stepped onto the sidewalk. Gib didn’t want to ruin Dany’s happy mood. She deserved to hope. Gib was all too aware that Gerard had delicately walked around what the embassy might honestly be able to do to protect Dany’s land from Vietnamese and U.S. government encroachment. Still, Gib prayed that there really was reason to hope. Gerard had promised to begin making inquiries with both the U.S. consulate and the Vietnam government on her behalf. Only time would tell.
Inside the cab on their way back to the hotel, Dany confessed, “I feel like celebrating now!”
He grinned. “Anything the lady wants.”
Dany clapped her hands. “I’d love to go dancing, Gib. The Caravelle has a wonderful ballroom. Did you see it?”
His smile broadened. “Sure did. You like to dance?” Gib guessed that with her tall, willowy body she’d be a sensuous dancer, and an ache automatically seized him. Dany would be like liquid sunlight in his hands. He knew it with every fiber of his being.
“I love to dance! Did I tell you that Maman had me study ballet since I was six years old?” Dany playfully made several graceful movements with her hands and arms. Gib’s eyes narrowed on her, making her feel suddenly giddy and reckless. With a silent laugh, Dany tucked her hands back in her lap. “Well, that was a long time ago. I studied ballet at the Sorbonne, too, but my degree in economics won out. The dance master at the university said I could make ballet my life, that I had just enough talent to be part of the corps de ballet, but nothing beyond that. He didn’t feel I had what it took to be a prima ballerina.” With a wrinkle of her nose, Dany smiled. “I didn’t like the idea of being stuck forever in the corps, so I graciously declined his offer. The last few years I’ve strayed from serious bar work, but I still try to do my stretching exercises. I guess I’ll always love the dance—it’s part of my soul.”
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