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  Vinh stared down at the items. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he touched the box of crayons. “Are there many colors in here?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you open it and find out?”

  It took every ounce of control Gib had to allow Vinh to struggle with the box on his own, and it took the boy a good minute before he was able to situate the box of crayons against his leg and open it with his clumsy fingers.

  “That wasn’t bad,” Gib praised him.

  Vinh was flushed with embarrassment. “Not so good. Not very fast.”

  “But you opened it. That’s the first step, Vinh. Don’t look at what you don’t do, look at what you do right. Okay?”

  With a nod, Vinh reverently touched the crayons one by one.

  “The next step is to draw something,” Gib said lightly as he opened up the small sketch pad. “What’s your favorite subject to draw?”

  “Helicopters.”

  Gib placed the sketch pad across Vinh’s lap. “I had a feeling it would be,” he said with a grin. “What color you want to use?”

  Vinh chewed on his lower lip, his brows drawn into a painful frown. “I—I can’t draw.”

  “Sure you can.” Gib chose the green crayon and placed it between the thumb and index finger of Vinh’s left hand. “Go on,” he urged gently, “give it a try. Now, the first time it’s going to look a little sloppy, but every time you try, it will be better. Go on….”

  Uncomfortable, Vinh pressed the crayon to the white paper. His brow puckered and his mouth compressed with concentration. The first line was wobbly, not straight and smooth.

  “Looks just fine,” Gib praised. “Why, that looks like the nose of a helo. Is it?”

  Vinh looked up, his eyes filled with surprise. “Yes! You can tell?”

  “Sure.” It was a lucky guess. Sheer luck. Gib hoped Vinh didn’t see him sweating it out for him. He wanted to give Vinh hope. Just seeing the sudden life in the boy’s eyes made all his previous nervousness and dread worth it. “Go on, let’s see you draw the rest of it, pardner.”

  Brightening, Vinh went back to work with far more relish than before. Each line was drawn slowly and with painstaking care. Each line was wobbly. After a good ten minutes, the vague outline of a marine helicopter filled the page.

  “Darn, but that’s awful good for a first time,” Gib congratulated Vinh sincerely. And it was. Gib saw the joy and hope in Vinh’s dark brown eyes, and for the next twenty minutes, time melted away as they worked together over the drawing to complete it.

  Finally, Vinh had finished his masterpiece and proudly held it up with his left hand for Gib to look at. The green helicopter was flying in a clear blue sky, with white clouds and a yellow sun in the background. Gib nodded his approval.

  “Definitely a keeper,” he told Vinh. “That’s a great first effort,” he praised seriously.

  “You really think so?” Vinh asked excitedly. He looked critically at the drawing and lost some of his initial enthusiasm. “All the lines shake like my hand.”

  Gib stroked the boy’s hair. “The doc said at first you’ll be shaky, but the more you use it, Vinh, the steadier you’ll become. That’s a promise.”

  Flushing with pride, Vinh stopped being so critical of his first work. “I will surprise my grandmother. Do you think she will like this as a gift from me?”

  Gib was careful not to let his expression change. Ma Ling didn’t exactly like marines—him in particular, from the way she always glared at him. “I think your grandmother will be very happy to see you drawing again.”

  “She will,” a woman’s voice directly behind him murmured.

  Gib’s heart slammed against his ribs. His mouth grew dry. The voice could belong to no one but Dany. Slowly, he turned his head. Dany stood there in a pale gold ao dai, her black hair plaited into a single, thick braid that fell between her shoulder blades. His pulse bounded as his gaze moved up to her warm, tear-filled eyes. Suddenly seven days without Dany felt like seven years of hell in solitary.

  “Dany—” he rasped. The emotion he felt for her almost burst through in his voice. Gib struggled to control himself, his wildly rampant feelings. Just seeing her parted lips, he wanted to taste them, to claim her as his own.

  Dany lowered her gaze. Nervously, she fingered the strap on her straw bag, filled with books for Vinh. “I—I didn’t know you’d be here,” she said lamely. The expression on Gib’s face was nearly her undoing. His eyes were dark with pain, the pain she’d inflicted on him. At the same time, she saw a burning fire of hope in them, too.

  Finding his voice, he hardened it slightly. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “About ten minutes.” Dany hadn’t been able to stop herself from being a silent witness to Gib’s incredibly sensitive touch with Vinh. The boy had responded beautifully beneath Gib’s coaxing. Dragging in a ragged breath, Dany whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I—”

  Gib rose abruptly. It hurt to see Dany. It hurt to know that she never wanted to see him again. Turning to Vinh, he forced a smile he hoped the boy wouldn’t see through.

  “I gotta be moseying on down the road, pardner. Time to get back to my base. How about if I drop by in a couple of days to see how many more drawings you’ve done?”

  Vinh flashed a smile. “You will come back?”

  Gib glanced over at Dany, tore his gaze from her, then looked down at Vinh. “Sure I will. That’s a promise. Next time, I’ll bring you some black-and-white photos of other planes you can draw.”

  “Good!”

  As Gib picked up the garrison cap he’d tossed on the cot, Vinh rose up on his knees and threw his arm around Gib’s neck.

  “Thank you, Major Gib,” Vinh quavered.

  Shutting his eyes, Gib held the boy tightly for a moment. “Any time, pardner.” He patted Vinh awkwardly. He had to get away from Dany. Her presence was sheer torture. Sheer hell of the sweetest, most unfulfilled kind. Vinh placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek, and Gib absorbed the look of gratitude in the boy’s eyes. Smiling down at him, he eased away.

  With trembling hands, Gib set the garrison cap back on his head at an angle. He wanted so badly to talk to Dany, to beg her to reconsider, but what was the point? Yet, as she stood before him, small and vulnerable, he felt as if his heart was breaking, the pain spreading like a destructive storm through him. His chest hurt and he was hardly able to breathe.

  “Excuse me,” he muttered as he moved by her. Blindly, Gib strode out of the tent and back into the fresh, humid air. Without looking back, he headed toward the nearest road to hitch a ride back to the airstrip.

  *

  At the helicopter, Gib tinkered around in the cockpit, awaiting the return of his crew, determined to keep from thinking, from feeling. He was angry. Angry with Dany. Angry with himself. Gib hadn’t expected ever to see Dany again. For all intents and purposes, the investigation on her mother’s case was completed. All he had to do was type up a final report and mail it to her. There was no official reason to see her again.

  The sun beat hotly into the cockpit, and Gib felt as if he were frying. Feeling dehydrated, he climbed out, grabbing a canteen of water he kept stowed beneath the seat. Lowering himself to the edge of the rear platform, he sat, his long legs dangling outside the aircraft, and drank deeply from the canteen. Maybe if he drank enough bitter-tasting, chemically treated water, he could put out the fire in his heart for Dany.

  As he lowered his head and capped the canteen, Gib’s eyes narrowed. Dany Villard was getting out of a white Citroën near the control tower. Frowning heavily, he watched her, the silk of her ao dai flowing gracefully against her small, proud form. Every sweet contour of her body was lovingly outlined by the pale gold silk. She was looking for someone. Him? Gib immediately discarded the thought, even as he felt a rush of anger that she’d shown up here and now. Wasn’t there any place he could go to get away from her emotional pull on him? Just thinking of her was agony enough. To see her standing so alone, a
woman in the harsh male world of military combat, emphasized her sweet femininity.

  Gib was just about to disappear back into the helicopter when Dany turned, spotted him and immediately began to walk across the tarmac toward him. Cursing softly to himself, his fingers tightening like steel on the aluminum canteen, Gib waited tensely.

  Dany pulled away the strands of hair that blew across her eyes and brow. She slowed her approach, nonplussed by Gib’s angry expression, by the vibrating tension surrounding him. Halting a foot away from him in the shadow of the huge gunship, she smiled, trying to disarm the anger.

  “Hi. I just wanted to thank you for helping Vinh.”

  “It was nothing,” Gib said abruptly. Sweet Jesus, why did Dany have to look so beautiful? So vulnerable? Every protective gene in his body wanted to embrace her and kiss her until her breath merged with his own. A fine trembling began to run through Gib, and he gripped the canteen with both hands.

  Dany saw Gib’s eyes flash with more than anger; she saw real pain. Licking her lips guiltily, she made a small gesture with her hand. “What you did—well, it was wonderful. Vinh’s parents haven’t been able to come up and see him as much as they’d like, and Ma Ling’s terribly upset by what’s happened.”

  “Something like this affects everyone,” Gib agreed tightly. Dany looked like a beautiful wraith, some fevered dream come to life in the daylight. Despite her beauty, he saw shadows beneath her eyes. Harshly, he controlled his need to ask how she’d been.

  Dany felt terribly nervous. She’d never seen Gib so cold or expressionless before. “Vinh’s so happy you came by,” she whispered. “His first drawing really isn’t that bad.”

  “No, it’s pretty good.” Gib shrugged. “The other day I tried drawing with my left hand, and it was a disaster.”

  Touched by his admission, Dany took a step closer. “Why did you do that?”

  Gib refused to lift his head and meet her gaze. If he did, he was afraid he would grab her, pin her against him and kiss her until they melted into each other. “I wanted to see what it was like. I didn’t want to bring the stuff to Vinh without knowing what he might have to go through in order to draw again.”

  Dany closed her eyes and swayed then caught herself. When she opened her eyes, Gib was still staring blackly down at his long, rawboned fingers clasped around the canteen. Her throat closed up with tears. “You’re a surprising man. Outside, you wear the shell of a warrior. Inside—well, you constantly surprise me with your sensitivity.”

  He flashed her an angry look. “Contrary to popular opinion, Dany, not all GIs are rotten bastards who deserve to have their selfish hearts cut out. A few of us American marines are pretty decent human beings.”

  Wincing, Dany took a step back from him. She deserved that. The coldness coming from him was frightening. Had she been wrong in ordering him to stay away? Or maybe he’d never cared for her, and that was why he was behaving this way toward her. Confused, she touched her brow.

  “I just wanted to come by and thank you. Vinh idolizes the ground you walk on. He was overjoyed by your visit. But I’m afraid he won’t be here much longer. I just talked to the doctor, and they’re going to release him tomorrow.”

  “Oh.”

  “Vinh’s so excited about the photos you promised him.”

  Abruptly, Gib stood. In the distance, he saw his crew getting out of a jeep. “I’ll see he gets them, Dany.”

  Gib towered over her, appearing so strong, confident and sure. Dany felt none of those things. She saw his attention had shifted and she turned.

  “My crew’s back. I’ve got to leave.”

  “Of course.” She tried to smile, but failed. “Thank you, Gib. For everything. But especially for giving Vinh back the hope that he might still be an artist someday.”

  Gib worked his mouth, torn between wanting Dany in his arms and steeling himself against what was lost to them both. “I’ve completed the investigation,” he said abruptly. “I’ll drop a copy of the report in the mail sometime in the next week.” And then I’ll be out of your life forever, just as you wanted.

  Dany nodded. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

  Goodbye. Gib nodded brusquely, unable to say anything, his throat jammed closed with a lump he didn’t care to acknowledge. He watched Dany turn and walk back toward the control tower. His crew ogled her thoroughly, but he couldn’t blame them—she was a beautiful woman in the daily dirty business of war. A flower in a field of blood.

  Turning, he leaped back into the rear cabin of the helicopter. If he didn’t get busy, he’d stand there like a sad-eyed wolf baying at the moon. Wolves, he reminded himself angrily, mated for life. Damn her. Damn her to hell. Gib sat down hard in his uncomfortable seat. He glowered as his copilot eased himself into the cockpit.

  “It’s about time you got back,” he growled. “Let’s get through the ground check and get the hell out of here.”

  *

  Dany’s hand trembled as she placed the key in the car’s ignition. In the distance, she could see the blades of Gib’s helicopter slowly begin to turn. A deluge of anguish, need and longing flowed through her, and she sat, head bowed, unable to drive until she recaptured her strewn emotions.

  Gib’s anger was completely shocking. Why was he so angry with her? Dany wished she had more experience with men and their behavior. Was he angry that she’d sent him away? Was it an issue of male ego and pride? Or was he hurt because he really did like her a great deal and she’d rebuffed him?

  Tears welled behind her shut eyelids. The past week had been utter torture. She’d been lonely without Gib’s presence, his steadying voice and confidence. Lately, since her mother’s death, her confidence seemed to have fled. Everyone who worked for the plantation was edgy. Dany lived in fear of another mine going off and killing or maiming someone else. She couldn’t trust Binh Duc any longer, even though she’d gotten him the cases of antibiotics he’d demanded.

  Gib’s face appeared in her mind’s eye. It was the face of a warrior—harsh and rough-hewn. Yet, as Dany sat thinking and, more importantly, feeling, she realized the depth of Gib’s loyalty and commitment to Vinh. Would any other GI have visited, much less brought Vinh a gift? Or—Dany opened her eyes and took a deep breath—tried drawing with his left hand to see what kind of problems Vinh would have? What kind of man was Gib Ramsey? Was he really different from all the other GIs? Or was he right in saying that some marines weren’t cold-blooded takers?

  Utterly exhausted by the flood of emotion and confused thought, Dany shook her head. Lately, life had held very few answers for her—only complex and puzzling questions. Starting the Citroën, Dany slowly drove away from the control tower. Perhaps time would ease her pain at losing Gib. She had no way of knowing. At this moment the war within her—between her heart and head—seemed worse than the one that surrounded her life and the plantation.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Three weeks. Three lousy weeks without contacting or seeing Dany. Gib wearily climbed out of the cockpit. He’d just returned from another mission—the third one today. Da Nang had been hit by VC sappers shortly after he’d last seen Dany, and the conflict had escalated sharply since then. More marines had landed at Da Nang, and it was as if their landing had been a signal to the active VC that it was time for an all-out attack against any ARVN or American installation. A marine patrol out of Da Nang had been ambushed a week ago, and since then what had been a sporadic conflict had heightened unquestionably to war. Although he tried not to think of her at all, Gib chafed daily at the thought of Dany’s “neutrality” and at the imminent danger she was in.

  Tess was in constant danger, too, as far as Gib was concerned. The villagers of Cam Na refused to leave their homes for a safer, more secure area the marines had set up for them. Tess continued to argue with a marine major who insisted her people were in real jeopardy. She remained at Cam Na overnight all the time now, and though he wanted to be supportive of her, Gib wasn’t at all comfortable with his sister’s stubborn refu
sal to help persuade the villagers to leave. The two women who held his heart, Dany and Tess, were far from safe, and Gib’s helpless frustration with the situation ate at him.

  Pete Mallory joined Gib as he walked toward the operations tent to fill out his debriefing forms.

  “Hell, this isn’t as much fun as it used to be,” Pete griped, wiping his watering, bloodshot eyes.

  “I can’t say I ever saw it that way in the first place,” Gib said drily. Every bone in his body ached. His bird had taken a lot of ground fire. Gib knew he and his crew had walked away lucky today. Sometime in the future, they might not. His shoulders and back muscles were in knots and felt as if they were on fire. Suddenly Dany popped into his thoughts, as she often did at unexpected moments. Gib wondered what it would be like to be massaged by her strong, slender hands. She’d be good at massage, he thought as he and Pete walked toward the group of tents in the distance.

  Gib had respected Dany’s request and left her alone. Completely alone. He liked her too much to make her life any more miserable than it already had become. At least there was one bright spot: Vinh had recuperated beautifully after the operation and was now back at the plantation with his family. Gib cherished the note that Dany had sent to him via Ma Ling last week.

  Dear Gib,

  I took the liberty of having your briefcase returned. In the confusion, you forgot about it. Thank you for respecting the neutrality of the Villard plantation and its people. I’m sending Ma Ling with this note to give to you. I received the investigation papers last week, and I’m sorry that no culprit was found. Thanks for trying.

  I find myself worrying about you every time I see a helicopter fly overhead. The last two weeks there’s been such terrible fighting around us that not a day went by that I didn’t wonder how you’re doing, how much you were flying and if you were staying safe. I hate war. I hate what it does to people. It all seems so unnecessary.

  I’m doing well. Things are quieter around here now and back on track, so to speak. Please take care. You’re in my nightly prayers.