14.

Although the rest of Saigon was unrecognizable as the tranquil colonial capital he'd once known, the circular, red-lacquered moon gate in the wall surrounding the Imperial Delegate's residence looked just the same to Joseph as it had in 1936. The same bronze temple bell hung from the curved eaves of its little roof, and even from the driver's seat of his OSS jeep parked at the curb, he could smell the damp, heady fragrances of the fleshy-leaved tropical trees and flowers growing inside the walled garden. It was beginning to grow dark, and when he cut the jeep's engine, silence descended suddenly on the tree-lined street north of the cathedral square. For a moment the quiet unnerved him, then the stutter of distant gunfire broke the stillness again and curiously made him breathe more easily; the sounds of disorder and conflict, he realized, somehow helped him feel less guilty about making the Ever since accepting a.s.signment to Saigon two weeks before, he had known he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation to try to see Lan again. Although he knew she had almost certainly married Paul Devraux and although he fully realized it was foolish and fruitless to try to turn back the clock, he'd been unable to stay away. He knew that the rational, sensible course would have been to forget the past - but that intense, all-engulfing sense of regret that had seized him when he thought he must die in his blazing Warhawk without ever seeing her again had overridden all his reasoned arguments. Countless times while waiting impatiently for the Chinese occupation forces to arrive in Hanoi and while undergoing the ritual of formal briefings for the new Saigon post back in Kunming, he had savored in his mind the moment when he would step up the red gate and ring the tiny bell. He had even sought out Kim before leaving Hanoi and asked him if he had any messages for his family so as to give himself a valid excuse to visit the Tran household. Kim had flushed and tried to hide his embarra.s.sment, then, avoiding Joseph's eyes, had said gruffly he had no message for his parents except that he was in good health and glad to be fighting at the side of President Ho Chi Minh for the cause of his country's freedom.

But as he made to climb out of his seat, Joseph hesitated, filled suddenly with doubt and apprehension. Although the red gates remained closed, he felt he could see the neat cl.u.s.ters of palms framing the curved roofs just as they'd done on his last visit; he saw again too, in his mind's eye, the shadowy room with its dark teak furniture and its hanging scrolls where he had been shocked to learn almost in the same moment of Jacques Devraux's death and Lan's rejection. Something of the youthful despair he had felt then surged back, and he remembered with renewed force just how greatly time had changed both their lives; now he had a wife and two young sons in Virginia, and Lan was also probably married.

But although these thoughts seethed inside his head, still he didn't restart the jeep. As he sat staring indecisively at the red gate, he knew that no matter what embarra.s.sment and disappointment lay beyond it, he couldn't go away without trying to see her again, if only for a moment; he knew he couldn't live the rest of his life without attempting to find out whether it had all been a foolish dream, whether the restless sense of discontent from which he had never been able to free himself since losing Lan was real or imagined.

For a minute or two after he jangled the bell there was no response; there appeared to be no movement in the house, and Joseph wondered suddenly why he had expected to find the Tran family still living there when so much else had changed in Saigon. The. previous day he and Lieutenant Hawke had driven into the city from the airport, beneath banners proclaiming "Welcome to the British and the Americans - but we have no room for the French." Along the roadsides, sullen, narrow-eyed j.a.panese soldiers of the Imperial Nipponese Army stood guard dressed in their distinctive crumpled forage caps and puttees; on the pavements behind them jubilant crowds of Vietnamese cheered the small advance contingents of the British Army's Twentieth Indian Division who were arriving daily from Rangoon by air to disarm and repatriate the defeated forces. Until a sufficiently large Allied force was a.s.sembled to take over from them, the forty thousand j.a.panese soldiers were having to help patrol the uneasy city, but they were performing their duties listlessly and without enthusiasm.

Among the flags of Britain, America, China and Russia draped across the streets, there was no sign of the French tricolor, and outside the Hotel de Ville at the top of the Boulevard Charner where the Viet Minh Committee for the South had set up its headquarters, Joseph had seen armed Vietnamese guerrillas standing defiantly on guard. The French colonial troops were still prisoners behind the wires of the concentration camps into which the j.a.panese had forced them at gunpoint in March, and on the Rue Catinat, which had been renamed the "Street of the Paris Commune," the once-fashionable French shops were shuttered and begrimed. Looting of isolated French properties had begun, and few of the twenty thousand French civilians who remained at liberty were visible in streets where there were no white troops to protect them. The small number of Indians and Gurkhas who had already arrived were fully occupied guarding the airfield, the power station, banks and police stations, and the main bulk of the British force was not expected to arrive by sea until early October. When Joseph and Lieutenant Hawke drove through the city on their first patrol after reporting to the OSS unit commander, they found the central markets standing silent and deserted because the Viet Minh had ordered a strike to protest against the British commanding officer's refusal to hold talks with them. A dawn-to dusk curfew had been ordered, but there were not enough British troops to enforce it properly, and skirmishes between the various Vietnamese armed groups had become commonplace.

A prolonged exchange of fire from the direction of the cathedral made Joseph turn his head to listen, and he didn't notice when one semicircular segment of the moon gate swung open silently behind him, When he turned back he found himself looking into the unsmiling face of Lan's brother Tam, and for a moment they stared at one another in surprise; then Joseph tore off his forage cap.

"Tam! C'est moi, Joseph Sherman! Vous vous souvenez?"

Tam gazed quizzically at the American's grinning face and his captain's shoulder bars, but made no attempt to widen the gap in the gate. "Yes, Captain Sherman, I remember you," replied the Vietnamese uncertainly in French. "But why have you come back to Saigon?"

"I've been a.s.signed here with the American mission. I flew in yesterday. I've been in Hanoi and I met your brother Kim up there. I thought you and your parents might like to know that he's in good health."

Tam's eyes narrowed at the mention of his brother's name, but otherwise his face remained expressionless and he made no reply.

"Your mother arid father are well I hope, Tam," said Joseph haltingly. "And your sister, Lan?"

"n.o.body is very well in Saigon today," said Tam in a dull voice. "As you must know already, it's a city filled with fear."

"Forgive me, Tarn, if I'm intruding, but I thought perhaps your mother would be glad to have some news of Kim. He told me he'd had no contact with you for many years."

After another moment's hesitation Tam swung the gate open. "Come and wait inside. I will ask my mother if she wishes to speak with you."

The Vietnamese closed and barred the gate carefully, then walked ahead of Joseph towards the house, in the twilight the American saw that the garden had become wild and overgrown and the lotus pool was choked with weeds. By the time he reached the house Tam had disappeared inside, and he waited uncertainly on the steps.

Several minutes pa.s.sed before Lan's mother appeared in the doorway with her son at her shoulder. "I'm surprised you have the audacity to return here, Captain Sherman, after what happened between you and my daughter," she said quietly in French without looking at him directly. "I've come out to talk with you only because Tam tells me you have news of my son Kim."

To Joseph's eyes, in the fading light the slender Vietnamese woman bore a striking resemblance to her daughter. Still beautiful in middle age, she was dressed in a dark, high-necked embroidered tunic and trousers, and she stood with her eyes downcast, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Behind her, through the open door, Joseph could see candles flickering on the family's ancestral altar as if he had disturbed her at prayer. "I'm sorry, Madame Hieu," he began hesitantly. "I don't understand..

She raised her head to look directly into his eyes, and he saw than that her face was stiff with unconcealed hostility. "What news have you, please, of my son Kim?"

"I spent a week working with him in northern Tongking," said Joseph quickly. "He's a leading aide of Ho Chi Minh and he's very highly thought of. Now he's working with the new government in Hanoi."

A pained expression came into the eyes of the Vietnamese woman, and she turned her head away without responding.

"I hope Monsieur Tran Van Hieu is well," said Joseph, an edge of desperation creeping into his voice. "And Lan, how is she? Did she marry my good friend Paul Devraux?"

When she turned to look at Joseph again, she was fighting to control the tears that had started to her eyes. "Yes, captain, she did. And they have a young son."

Joseph forced himself to smile. "That's wonderful news. And did they stay in Saigon?"

Madame Hieu lost her struggle to hold back her tears and she turned away again to bury her face in her son's shoulder. "We've all been living under great strain, captain," said Tam, putting a protective arm around his mother. "After their marriage Lan and her husband remained in Saigon, but Major Devraux, along with all the other French soldiers, was imprisoned by the j.a.panese six months ago. He's still a prisoner. After he was taken away, Lan and her son came to live here with my parents and my own family for safety."

"May I see her, please?" asked Joseph, fighting down the agitation inside him.

"She's not here anymore captain. She and my father got caught tip in the violence of the independence day riots."

Joseph stared at the Vietnamese in alarm. "What happened?"

"The Viet Minh organized a great parade to celebrate the declaration of independence in Hanoi, and my father and Lan went to watch. But trouble broke out around the cathedral. A French priest was shot on the front steps, and my father and Lan were knocked to the ground and trampled on when the crowd stampeded."

"And where are they now?"

"My father is resting here at home, but Lan is still in hospital. She suffered concussion and was unconscious for a time."

"Which hospital is she in?" asked Joseph anxiously.

"I forbid you to try and see her!" Madame 1-lieu raised her tear-stained face from her son's shoulder. "She wouldn't wish it. You've caused her enough unhappiness already. She's to be released from the hospital soon, and we'll all be leaving the city then."

Joseph, taken aback by the vehemence of her words, stared at the Vietnamese woman helplessly. "I don't know what you mean, madam "My sister doesn't wish to see you, captain," said Tam firmly. "I think that must be clear to you."

"I'm very sorry," stammered Joseph. "If there's anything I can do to help His voice trailed off and he turned away in bafflement. He was halfway down the steps when he heard Madame Hieu call his name again.

"Did my son Kim send any message, captain?" she asked tearfully. Joseph hesitated. "He asked me to tell you that he was happy to be helping bring freedom and independence to your country," he said slowly.

"Nothing else?" She searched Joseph's face anxiously as she waited for his response.

"He said he was very sad that he had not seen you all for so long," said Joseph, lying without knowing why. "He said he thinks of you often."

Madame Hieu lifted both hands to her face and turned away into the house, weeping uncontrollably.

"You had better. leave now, captain," said Tam, motioning Joseph towards the gate. "And please, for my mother's sake, don't ever come here again."

15.

Lieutenant David Hawke hauled the back-pack radio from the jeep and carried it wearily up the front steps of the mansion that Detachment 404 of the OSS had commandeered for its headquarters on the northwestern outskirts of Saigon. The former home of the French chief executive of the Bank of Indochina, the house stood on the edge of a golf course in its own grounds, and on the orders of General Douglas Gracey, commanding officer of the British occupation force, it was guarded by a detachment of j.a.panese troops. Both Hawke and Joseph, who followed him up the steps, returned the resentful salutes of the j.a.panese sentries without looking at them, and once inside the front hail, Hawke dumped the radio pack angrily on the table.

"Why in h.e.l.l's name did we have to agree at Potsdam to let the British take Indochina south of the sixteenth parallel? If it had been left in General Wedemeyer's South China Command, we'd have had a ma.s.sive Chinese presence and a bigger American outfit down here long ago." Hawke patted the tunic and trousers of his battle dress distastefully, raising clouds of dust that had been absorbed during a long afternoon and evening patrol. "Instead we've got a few thousand Indians and their British sahibs running around the place using the enemy as policemen - and we're all teetering on the edge of a precipice."

A door of one of the downstairs offices opened unexpectedly, and the bespectacled major commanding the detachment emerged, grinning. A brilliant Wall Street investment a.n.a.lyst in civilian life, he tried to apply the same careful methods of logic and detailed research to his military intelligence work but had already confessed himself baffled by the confused political scene in Saigon.

"Has n.o.body told you, lieutenant, that Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten changed the name of his outfit at the end of the war? 'SEAC' doesn't stand for 'South East Asia Command' anymore. It stands for 'Save England's Asian Colonies.' That's why the British were so keen to grab part of the Indochina action at Potsdam. With Burma and India next door they couldn't let the natives here get too restless -or the humble folk in their own colonies might start getting the wrong ideas."

Lieutenant Hawke expressed an obscene personal opinion about the British under his breath and began to unfasten his tunic, but the major lifted a warning hand. "Hold it right there, lieutenant; your day's not over yet. I'm sure Captain Sherman's going to want you to accompany him on a little trip to Saigon Cathedral."

Joseph looked inquiringly at the major. "Why should I want to go to the cathedral, sir?"

The major unfastened the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled out a crumpled envelope. "A mysterious Vietnamese delivered this note an hour ago. He said it was urgent. It says. 'Please ask Captain Sherman to be in the cathedral at the rear of the south aisle at nine P.M.' "The major handed Joseph the note scrawled on ruled paper in badly spelled English. "It's signed 'Ngo Van Loc.' Do you know anyone of that name?"

Joseph read the note himself, then looked up at the senior officer with a surprised expression on his face. "Yes, I do. Loc is somebody I met here a long time ago."

"And was he mixed up in the politics of the place?"

"I think I could say yes to that," said Joseph grimly.

"Fine; then go and meet him. Maybe we'll find out something we don't know already about what's going on around here. Lieutenant Hawke will come along to ride shotgun in case they've got any ideas about kidnapping a token American."

When Joseph and Hawke approached the Basilica de Notre Dame half an hour later, the curfew hour was close and the streets were already empty. As they parked the jeep, they heard the crackle of gunfire from the direction of the docks, and a few seconds later a truckload of Gurkhas roared across the deserted Place Pigneau de Behaine, heading towards the sound of fighting. Inside the cathedral, the gloom was relieved only by a bank of votive candles, and the little sanctuary light above the high altar. The pews at the rear of the south aisle were in deep shadow and apparently deserted, but Joseph stationed Hawke behind a nearby pillar with his hand on his revolver b.u.t.t as a precaution before sitting down to wait. When Ngo Van Loc appeared silently at his side a few minutes later, Joseph didn't recognize him immediately. The peasant he had first encountered as a ragged camp "boy" in 1925 now wore the long dark coat and black turban of a middle- cla.s.s Vietnamese and had grown a goatee that substantiated his disguise; but then Joseph noticed that his paralyzed left arm, shattered by the French dive-bombers at Vinh, still hung limp at his side, and when Loc glanced in his direction, his dark eyes were as watchful and suspicious as Joseph remembered from their previous encounter nine years before in the covered market.

In keeping with the disguise he wore, Loc knelt for a moment as though in prayer, then sat back and picked up a missal from the bench in front of him and began turning its pages. "So you've returned to Saigon as a military intelligence man, Captain Sherman," he said softly in French, pretending to read the prayer book. "The city has changed greatly since your last visit, hasn't it?"

"How did you know I was here?" asked Joseph in a surprised undertone.

"Word was sent to us from Hanoi. President Ho Chi Minh himself told us you and the other OSS Americans were sympathetic to our cause."

"Are you an official of the Viet Minh League?"

Loc nodded, still keeping his eyes fixed on the missal. "I'm a member of our Committee for the South."

"And why do you want to talk to the OSS? We've got no real standing here."

"Gracey, the British general, is too arrogant to negotiate with us, and the French colonel, Cedile, who jumped in by parachute and now calls himself 'High Commissioner,' is a pigheaded man. He pretended to hold discussions with us for a few days, but in reality he was trying to force us to capitulate." Loc spat his words out in a fierce whisper, and Joseph had to lean closer to make out clearly what he said. "Neither of them realizes the dangers they face. You've been in the north and seen how the people have risen to support our national revolution. Here in the south we've set up revolutionary committees everywhere to replace the corrupt councils of notables and mandarins. But the British don't understand that and refuse to listen to us. They're preparing to restore the rule of France - we know French troopships are already on their way here from Ma.r.s.eilles and Calcutta..."

Loc stopped speaking as the dark-clad figure of a French priest pa.s.sed in front of the altar, and he followed him with his eyes until he disappeared into the sacristy.

"But why are you telling me this?" insisted Joseph.

"Because we need the support of America," replied Loc vehemently. "You must tell your government about us! Your political leaders must bring pressure on Britain and France to recognize the Viet Minh as the lawful government of our country."

"It doesn't matter how much I sympathize personally with the cause of the Viet Minh," said Joseph quietly. "The OSS mission here in Saigon can't take sides in your internal politics."

"The Viet Minh helped the Allies fight the j.a.panese while the French collaborated with them," said Loc heatedly, turning to look at Joseph. "Doesn't that count for anything? Do the French deserve your support?"

Joseph shrugged helplessly. "France and Britain are our allies. There are many conflicting interests for the United States government to consider - especially in Europe."

"You mean that Vietnam isn't important enough - n.o.body will care if there's war in such a small and insignificant country." Loc studied Joseph's face for a moment, then nodded quickly to himself in confirmation of his suspicions.

"One of the problems," said Joseph slowly, "is that n.o.body really knows whether the Viet Minh is secretly a Communist front organization. How many of your committee are Communists?"

Loc turned the pages of the missal with rapid, agitated movements. "You, more than anyone, captain, should know that you don't have to be a Communist to hate what the French have done here. Our committee has fourteen members and no more than three or four are what you would call 'Communists.' But that's not important. What is important is that the Viet Minh wants to negotiate with France. Our leaders in Hanoi told you that. We know we are a poor country and we need French commercial interests to help us develop. It's the other nationalist groups outside the Viet Minh who are urging the committee to fight the French. And by refusing to negotiate with us, the British and the French are making a war certain. We want negotiations, captain, but if the French try to return without negotiating much blood will be spilled -- we will never surrender the independence we've just won."

"Maybe your fears are exaggerated, Loc. In the north, the Chinese occupation force is respecting the Viet Minh government. The British have come to Indochina only to organize the evacuation of the j.a.panese forces and their formal surrender - those are their orders."

Loc snorted angrily and closed the missal with a snap. "Already the British have shut down our newspapers, and hour by hour they're cooperating more openly with France. Our agents have discovered today that General Gracey has ordered posters to be printed proclaiming martial law. Within a day or two all political freedom is to be denied us in our own country! The next step will be an outright attempt to restore French rule!"

Joseph studied the profile of the Vietnamese beside him; his bony face was gaunt and wasted by imprisonment and physical suffering, and his dark eyes gleamed ferociously whenever France was mentioned. "Just after we met the last time, Loc, your son was arrested in Hue for trying to murder Monsieur Jacques Devraux," he said evenly. "Then Monsieur Devraux was murdered in his bed a week or two later. Were you responsible for his death?"

The Vietnamese Looked steadily at Joseph for a long time. "That's a personal matter, captain. I haven't come here to discuss such things. But I asked to speak to you because, better than anybody else, you know how much hatred there is for the French in the hearts of my countrymen. They robbed me of my wife and son, and there are many many thousands like me who have lost their loved ones because of the cruelty of France. That is why we will fight to the death to be free." Without warning the Vietnamese stood up. "Tell your allies that - before it is too late."

Loc disappeared into the shadows as silently as he had come, and Joseph sat staring at the stumps of the many hopeful candles that had been lit throughout the day by frightened colons and their families. One by one they were going out, and the light they provided in the gloomy cathedral was growing dimmer. When he sensed a presence at his side, Joseph turned and found David Hawke standing beside him, b.u.t.toning his revolver back into its holster "Did he tell us anything interesting, captain?" asked the young Bostonian in a quiet voice.

Joseph nodded slowly and stood up. "Yes. I'd better head back to headquarters right away and get a report across to the British. I don't suppose it will do any good, but the Viet Minh say that if the French don't negotiate, they won't be able to stop the other hotheads from starting a war."

As they left by the west door, the last of the votive candles guttered and went out, leaving the cathedral in almost total darkness behind them. Outside, the stars shone brilliantly in the night sky, but an unnatural hush had already fallen over the streets, as though the whole city was holding its breath in expectation of unwelcome news.

16.

In the late afternoon of the next day, September 22, as he was driving along the old Rue Catinat, Joseph saw a j.a.panese trooper pasting a series of printed posters on the walls of the Continental Palace Hotel. Stopping his jeep at the curb, he hurried across the sidewalk to peer over the soldier's shoulder. Printed in Vietnamese, French and English, the notice was headed "Proclamation Number One" in heavy black type, and after scanning its contents Joseph felt his spirits sink; as Ngo Van Loc had predicted, it amounted to a declaration of martial law.

It proclaimed that General Douglas Gracey, acting on behalf of the Supreme Allied Commander, South East Asia, was in sole charge of all military forces, armed groups and police units in French Indochina south of the sixteenth parallel. The population ere warned that in future, looters, saboteurs and other wrongdoers would be summarily shot, and that. all demonstrations, processions and public meetings were banned henceforth. From the time of the posting of the edict, the carrying of arms, even sticks, staves and bamboo spears, was forbidden to all except British and Allied troops.

As Joseph returned to his jeep, he glanced along the boulevard. The shady pavements beneath the tamarinds, normally aswarm with people at that hour, were almost deserted; sensing that trouble was coming, the Vietnamese population of the city had been fleeing to the countryside in increasing numbers, and few French colons dared any longer venture from their homes. During frequent reconnaissance tours with Lieutenant Hawke that day Joseph had seen only isolated j.a.panese foot patrols and an occasional truckload of British Gurkhas moving in the streets; in the daylight hours the armed gangs of the Cao Dai, the Hoa Hao and the Binh Xuyen were keeping out of sight. The Viet Minh strike had now succeeded in shutting down the markets completely, and the British had already begun to airlift some essential supplies into the city.

During the past two days as the streets had grown noticeably more tense, Joseph had been wrestling hour by hour with his conscience. To know that Lan was somewhere in the city but didn't want him to contact her had sometimes seemed an unendurable agony. He had been unable to put from his mind the accusing expression on her mother's face as she spoke to him from the steps of her house, and he had been tortured by the knowledge that the wife of a French officer would almost certainly be treated at the central Hopital Militaire in the Rue de Ia Grandiere. Once or twice, while driving past the sprawling complex of two-storied, verandahed buildings, he had been tempted to stop and go in, but the presence of David Hawke beside him had always restrained him. In the last afternoon, however, he had driven out alone from the OSS headquarters, his own private sense of unease increasing with the heightening tension in the streets, and after reading the British proclamation he sat behind the wheel of the jeep for only a moment before finally making up his mind. With all political rights suddenly denied to the newly free Vietnamese, some kind of explosion seemed unavoidable, and the anxiety he felt for Lan's safety finally broke down his earlier resolve to comply with her mother's wishes. When he drove past the Hotel de Ville and saw the Viet Minh sentries still standing guard with their weapons in defiance of the martial-law edict, he pressed more urgently on the accelerator, and at the Hopital Militaire the apprehensive French doctors took one look at his American officer's insignia and deferred without hesitation to his request for information.

When they located Lan they agreed immediately that he might visit her. The nurse supervising the ward in which she was being treated explained that Lan had almost recovered from her concussion and would be able to leave the hospital in two or three days. Lan was sleeping just then, the nurse said, but remembering the meaningful look the senior doctor had given her, she invited Joseph to wait at her bedside until she awoke.

Outside the door of Lan's room he hesitated again, wondering if he should at the last moment .try to resist that irrational compulsion that had driven him there. He thought of Paul languishing in some dark cell not far away and wondered how he would explain his actions to him when they met. He decided he would say only that he had come to see if he could help the wife of his old friend, but this intended deceit only increased his feeling of disquiet. His final agony of indecision, however, lasted little more than a second or two, and when he stepped through the doorway, his eyes fell upon her immediately. Her long hair was spread across the white pillow like wreaths of dark smoke, and in repose the delicate beauty of her oval face was also voluptuous. He stood transfixed at the sight of her, and his heart seemed to swell suddenly inside his chest; the finely arched brows, the closed, heavy-lidded eyes and gently smiling mouth gave her the appearance of an Asian Madonna, acknowledging with shyly lowered gaze an adoration beyond her understanding. One hand, small and narrow like a schoolgirl's, lay on the top of the coverlet, and he had to check a sudden impulse to cover it tenderly with his own. She showed no signs of waking, and eventually he removed his cap and seated himself quietly on a chair by the foot of the bed.

For a quarter of an hour he just sat and looked at her; she slept propped high on her pillows, her head turned slightly to one side, and he could see a tiny pulse beating strongly in the base of her throat. She is just as beautiful as I remember her, he thought wonderingly - more beautiful perhaps. Listening to the gentle sigh of her breath, he felt a new stirring of the giddy pa.s.sion they had once shared, and suddenly he knew that however unjust it was, he had never loved Tempe - and never would - with the same intensity. A feeling of anxiety gripped him as she began to waken, but when at last she opened her eyes and turned her head in his direction, she showed no sign of surprise.

"You shouldn't have come," she said softly in French.

"Lan, I know," said Joseph leaning towards her in his anxiety. "I'm sorry I didn't respect your mother's wishes. I had to see you again. Are you really recovered from your injuries?"

She nodded vaguely, her eyes still hazy with sleep. "There's nothing for us to say, Joseph. We must let past things remain in the past."

"But your mother said I'd caused you unhappiness. I didn't know what she meant."

With the gradual return of full awareness, her eyes began to widen in alarm. "She told me yesterday you'd come back to Saigon. I knew she'd forbidden you to visit me, but before I woke, I dreamed that you would come "But what did she mean? How could I have made you unhappy, Lan?"

"She thought that you knew. She thought I had told you in a letter after you left."