Ride the Tiger (26 page)

Dany glanced down at herself. Her clothes were dirty, torn and smelled of smoke. She looked and felt like hell, but it didn't matter. “Let's go,” she urged Tess.

Gamely, Tess nodded. “We can get a hotel room at the Caravelle and get cleaned up before we go to the hospital. I'll throw some clothes together for us.”

“I just want to be there for Gib,” Dany whispered unsteadily. “He'll need someone....”

Tess pushed open the door that led out of the emergency-room facility. “I just pray he's going to make it.”

He
had
to make it, Dany thought blindly as she hurried to keep up with Tess's long-legged strides toward the BOQ tent area. The sun was just setting, red-orange rays gleaming against the glassy ocean in the distance. Her whole world had changed within two hours, Dany thought. Gib was in critical condition and might die. He was without a leg. Her home was nothing more than a gutted shell, utterly destroyed. As she trotted beside Tess, Dany clung to one thought: she loved Gib and she carried his child. No matter what happened, she would be there for him. He had stood by her. Well, now she was going to stand by him.

* * *

The C-130 was a huge aircraft, and this one was loaded with supplies in its deep cargo hold. Dany huddled next to Tess on the nylon net seats near the cockpit. Everything was darkened in the hold, the only light a red one that glowed from the cockpit—barely a glimmer from where they sat.

The Hercules shook, rattled and roared, its four huge turboprop engines at a high shriek as it flew through the night toward Saigon. Dany knew the four cargo handlers sat opposite them on the other side of the fuselage, but she couldn't see them because nets containing huge boxes of goods were stacked to the ceiling between them.

Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself, unable to sleep. She glanced over at Tess, who was sleeping lightly. Envying Gib's sister for her ability to rest in the middle of a crisis, Dany shook her head.

Gently touching her left arm, now stitched, dressed and bound in a white sling, Dany tipped her head back against the nylon matting that acted as a chair behind her. A sigh broke from her lips. All she could think about, all she could feel, was Gib. Prayer after prayer ran through her head as she sat there in the hold. It had taken Tess only an hour to get them a flight out of Da Nang. They couldn't land soon enough, as far as Dany was concerned. The waiting, the not knowing, was terrible.

* * *

Tess was pale as she slowly left the intensive care unit and walked toward Dany, who stood tensely at the entrance to the waiting room. Her eyes were shadowed, her full mouth pursed as she approached. Dany's heart froze, and automatically she clasped her hands to her breast.

“Gib? Is he—is he going to make it?”

Tess nodded and reached out to pat Dany's shoulder. “Yes. He's still unconscious from the surgery. Dr. Gail Froelich, his surgeon, said he's critical, but stable.” She glanced at her watch. It was four in the morning. “I lied and told the nurses you're his fiancée,” Tess said in a low voice. “Otherwise, they'd never let you see him. You can have five minutes in there with him next hour. We'll wait in the lounge, then we'll go to the hotel together afterward and get some sleep. I'm bushed.”

Exhaustion was lapping at Dany, too. After the C-130 flight from Da Nang to Saigon, they'd gotten a hotel room, showered and changed into clean clothes. Her left arm was throbbing without let up. Adjusting the cumbersome sling, Dany nodded wearily. “Do you want another cup of coffee?”

With a groan, Tess staggered into the lounge. “God, no. I'm coffeed out.” She sat down on a plastic couch and stretched out, using her arm as a pillow for her head. “Wake me up after you've seen Gib, huh?”

Dany nodded. She stood near the couch in the silence of the room watching Tess drop quickly off to sleep. It had been a terrible, traumatic day for all of them. Loneliness sliced through Dany, and she slowly turned and left the lounge. Down at the end of the white hall was a small window where she could look at the lights of Saigon. The ICU station was monitored by navy nurses and corpswaves. They barely glanced up from their numerous duties as Dany walked slowly by their busy desk.

Lifting a hand to steady herself against the long, rectangular window, Dany stood with her brow pressed against the cool glass. Tiredness surged through her in waves, and she felt her knees weakening. Locking them, Dany took a deep breath and tried to sort through the morass of decisions she had to make. Everything seemed at an end. The last piece of information she'd been able to gather about her plantation had come from Smitty. He'd talked to a marine company commander who was setting up a perimeter on what was left of her property.

Opening her eyes, Dany remembered every word Smitty had said:
The captain says your house is burned to the ground, Miss Villard. I'm really sorry. No, nothing was saved. The rubber trees—well, there ain't a whole lot of those left after the mortar attacks by the VC and the rockets launched by the gunships. Yes, the VC were pushed back. They just faded back into the jungle. You know how they are. It appears they were ready with fifty-calibers for the first wave of assault helicopters.
Smitty's voice cracked and then hardened.
But we pounded the hell out of the area. Yes, come tomorrow the marines are going to check the land for any mines the VC left behind, then they're bringing in the bulldozers to level your property. We'll have men comb the ashes of your home to see if they can find anything worth saving.

Gone. Almost everything she'd ever owned was gone. Tears welled in her eyes, but Dany forced them back. Gone were all the photos of her mother and father. Gone was the Hollywood memorabilia that had meant so much to them. Dany had thought she wouldn't miss those painful reminders of her parents' but she missed them now.

Her hand clenched at her side as she stood there feeling more alone than she ever had in her entire life. Dany had thought she knew what being alone was like, but this was a new and terrifying feeling. At least her Vietnamese families were safe from the VC. Thanks to Tess and her hard work, her people's lives would move forward with minimal disruption. At least they'd been spared watching the plantation and trees being destroyed.

Dany sniffed and rubbed her nose. The only clothes she had were the ones Tess had loaned her for the flight to Saigon. Her scrapbooks, a world where she'd loved to take her own flights of fantasy as a child, had been burned up in the fire. Ma Ling had made her a doll when she was seven because her mother had never given her one. That doll, its painted face worn off from hugs, kisses and washings, had also been destroyed in the flames. More tears jammed into Dany's tightly shut eyes. It was a doll she had planned on giving their child when she was old enough.

“Miss Villard?”

Dany sniffed and turned toward the woman's voice. It was a tall, red-haired woman in pale green surgical outfits. “Y-yes?”

“I'm Dr. Gail Froelich.” She smiled gently. “It's 0500. You may see your fiancée, Major Ramsey, for five minutes only. He's in room four.”

“Th-thank you.” Dany quickly scrubbed her eyes free of the tears. She hurriedly caught up with the surgeon. “Is Gib awake yet?”

“Mmm, he's semiconscious, not really too coherent yet.” The doctor grimaced. “And he's in a lot of pain.”

“Does he know he's lost his leg?”

“Yes. I was just in to see him before Tess's visit.”

Dany's own heart burst with pain. Gib's pain. She slowed as the surgeon opened the glass-enclosed unit with a number four on the door. She looked in, appalled at all the instruments and apparatus surrounding Gib. He looked whiter than the sheets that covered him.

“Miss Villard?” the doctor prompted gently.

Embarrassed, Dany stepped into the room. The door closed quietly behind her. The air smelled of antiseptic and other disinfectant odors that made her wince. Slowly, Dany approached, her gaze moving to the end of the bed. Gib's left leg was heavily bandaged and resting in a special device on top of the covers. Where once he'd had a foot and ankle, there was nothing. Her heart lurched, and automatically Dany reached out, sliding her fingers around Gib's hand. Both his arms held IVs, and his skin felt chilled and damp to her telling fingers.

Leaning over, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, swollen around a long cut along his jaw. Stitches held it shut. How much he must have suffered. Easing her fingers through his dark hair, Dany watched as Gib's lashes fluttered open.

She held her breath as Gib slowly turned his head in her direction. His lids lifted, revealing dazed eyes, dark with pain. His lips moved soundlessly, then he groaned as if reliving the crash.

“Shh, darling, it's all right. You're safe,” Dany crooned, stroking his sweat-beaded brow. The beep of the heart monitor was tearing at her shredded composure. There were so many unfeeling machines in the room. What Gib needed was warmth, care and touch. Dany smiled down into his barely opened eyes.

“Ma...?”

He wasn't coherent, Dany thought. “No, it's me, Dany.” And then she took the greatest risk in her life. Her voice hoarse, she whispered, “Gib, I love you so much. Do you hear me? No matter what happens, I'll be here for you. I don't care if you lost your leg.” She touched his sweaty brow, her voice filled with tears. “I love you, Gib.”

He began to thrash his head from side to side, the movement slow, as if he were trying to shake off the effects of the anesthesia. “No...no! Get away...get away.”

Dany froze. “Gib?”

“Get away!” he cried hoarsely, and weakly raised his hand.

Stunned, Dany backed away from the bed. “Gib, it's me, Dany. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you. Oh, God, don't you know who I am?” Her heart crumpled with pain—his and her own. The wildness in Gib's slitted eyes grew more intense as he stared at her.

“Get away, Dany,” he mumbled. “Can't...no use...get away, Dany. No good...it's no good....”

A cry tore from her. Gib knew who she was! Wavering, she stood with her hand pressed against her mouth to stop another sob. Tears blinded her. Gib had heard her tell him that she loved him. Still, he lay there rolling his head back and forth, muttering over and over again the word “no.”

Stifling the urge to weep openly, Dany stumbled out of the room, ran down the hall past the nurses' station and into the restroom. It was the only private place she could find to sob wildly. Staggering to a stop, she fell against the cool, tiled wall of the restroom, her face buried in her hands. The sobs started, softly at first, and then wrenching upward, as if some giant, invisible hand were trying to tear her heart out of her body. Exhausted, Dany slid downward until she sat on the floor, legs drawn up toward her body, her head buried in the crook of her arm, crying. Crying for herself, for her loss of Gib and for the loss of his leg. Today she'd lost everything—including the only man she'd ever loved. She was a Vietnamese woman carrying an American's baby. They would both be left behind, alone and abandoned, when he was sent stateside.

T
wo days later, Gib was coherent for the first time. When he awoke, Tess was at his bedside gripping his hand, her face drawn with worry, dark shadows beneath her eyes. She was blotting his sweaty forehead. Gradually his eyes focused on her.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found it dry and his voice nonexistent. When Tess gently slid her arm beneath his shoulders and held a glass of water to his lips, he drank thirstily. Then, letting his head sink back into the pillows, he thanked her by weakly squeezing her hand.

“Tess,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Where's Dany?” Gib remembered that somewhere in his dreams and nightmares of the past days, mixed with his fear of crashing and dying, Dany had been there. Or had she?

With a grimace, Tess gripped his hand, as if to prepare him. “She was at your side two days ago, Gib. And when you sent her away...well, she left.” Her hand tightened around his at the puzzlement and then agony in his eyes. “I'm sorry. I tried to tell her that you were just coming out of anesthesia, but she wouldn't believe me. She said you were shouting at her to leave.”

His mind barely functioning, Gib assimilated Tess's strained explanation. His gaze moved to his leg. Desperately, he tried to piece together what had happened. Dr. Froelich had come in and told him he'd lost his left foot and ankle. Then Dany had appeared. Weakly raising his arm, he rubbed his aching eyes with his fingers.

“She must have thought I was yelling at her,” Gib rasped unsteadily. “I wasn't. Dr. Froelich had just told me I'd lost part of my leg. I remember not believing her until I tried to move my left foot, and then I realized nothing moved.” Gib closed his eyes and his voice cracked. “Right after that, the helo crash blipped in front of me—us getting hit. I remember trying to tear out of my harness when I saw Dany come running toward me. I was screaming at her to get away, go back, because I knew the helo was going to blow. She kept coming closer and closer. I remember her calling my name, and I was frantic to protect her. I was trying to save myself and her at the same time. I remember screaming at the top of my lungs at her to get back—”

“Oh, no,” Tess breathed. “That's what Dany was sobbing about. She told me you had told her to go away. Now I understand everything.”

Looking up at his sister, Gib asked, “Where's Dany now?”

“Back in Da Nang. I—I found her weeping in the woman's restroom after a nurse woke me in the lounge and told me what had happened. Dany was sitting on the floor crying her heart out. When I leaned down and asked why, she said you didn't want her around anymore.”

Groaning, Gib lay back, helpless anger snaking through him. “That's not true! I was out of my head with the crash sequence. Dany must have thought I was denying her.”