Tuyen grinned. Her face lit up. “No. They not hurt me.” She reached under the envelope. “I have necklace.”
Nana stared at the silver chain with its clinking little rectangles. Dog tags. Tuyen handed them to her.
Lexi crossed her arms, hugging herself tightly. Nana kissed the dog tags, unable to read them without her glasses. Danny went behind the couch and peered over her shoulder.
“Oh, man.” He whistled softly. “There it is.”
No one else moved. Another long, quiet moment passed.
Then Papa stood abruptly and glowered at Officer Delgado. “Blast it all!” he barked. “How do we know she’s telling the truth?”
Lexi flinched, but the policewoman didn’t bat an eyelash.
Nana spoke up quickly. “Ben.” The tone wasn’t her gentle one.
“Indio, I’ve got to get this off my chest. We cannot just swallow this nonsense whole.”
Delgado said, “Well, sir, you are right. We can’t verify the details at this point. But there are agencies to help. I was told she has papers, probably from Immigration.”
“A paper isn’t going to tell me one dang thing! Anybody in Vietnam could have picked up his dog tags. Photographs get doctored all the time. Anybody with half a brain could have gotten this information about BJ and found us.”
“Yes, but the question is what does Tuyen hope to gain by coming here?”
Nana put an arm around Tuyen, who cowered against her. “She doesn’t have a family. She wants a family.”
“And what if she’s not a Beaumont?” Papa shouted. “What do I owe her then? What if—”
“Sir.” Officer Delgado leaned forward in her chair. “It would be best for everyone if we all remained calm.”
“And who are you to tell me what to do in my home? Why are you here anyway?”
“I was invited by your grandchildren. Now I realize blue eyes are a dime a dozen, but Tuyen does have the same blue as you do. There’s a possibility of DNA testing, comparing yours and hers—”
“Officer.” Papa growled now. “There’s only one thing that does not add up and it will never add up. My son would have come home, or he would have died trying, long before 1982 rolled around!”
He
stomped across the room and through the door.
No one said a word. Maybe they were all as stunned as Lexi. Maybe they were all thinking what she was:
Yeah, Papa had a point there
.
I
need a drink.”
Erik muttered the remark more to himself than to Rosie. But she heard it and it rankled. The guy had so much going for himself, not the least of which was a caring family. Why did he insist on throwing it all away?
They walked through the cold dark toward her car. A row of solar lights softly lit the flagstone path across the front yard. Stars shone, the sky dense with them. Thick quiet enveloped the place like a silky blanket.
Rosie could not reconcile the peace with Erik’s crummy preoccupation with himself. “Beaumont, give me a break. You’ve got so much to be grateful for. Granted, I have not walked in your moccasins. And it’s true, looks and money don’t equal fulfillment. But you have a family who dropped everything they were doing because you needed help. Your brother and sister last night. The others today probably thought you were coming up to be with them for your own sake. Now they embrace this hapless stranger.”
“Not totally. My grandfather will never do so. Lexi and I have doubts. Dad’s uncharacteristically quiet. He’s not sold, I can tell.”
“I’m talking generalities. You’re all at least willing to give her the time of day and her story a chance. Except maybe your grandfather.” The old man never had reappeared.
She and Erik went down the few railroad-tie steps to the parking area and walked across the gravel. She could almost feel Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected bristle beside her.
Oh, well.
That was his problem. It was time for her to exit the scene.
She’d declined Claire’s kind invitation to stay for dinner. Tuyen was in good hands. Indio and Claire just assumed the stranger would stay with them. Rosie saw the beautiful guest room where she would live for the time being. Danny had already carried Tuyen’s lone gym bag into it.
Rosie stopped near her SUV and turned to Erik. “The point is they are rallying around you and now around Tuyen.”
“Officer, who asked you?”
The guy was such a loser. “You invited me, remember? My opinion comes with the territory.”
“You don’t know diddly-squat about my family or about my life.”
“I know they care, and I know that the perfect family does not exist. We all have to deal with whatever hand we’re dealt.”
He jingled a set of keys before her. “I am dealing with it.” He spun on his heel and strode toward one of the other cars in the lot.
Visions flashed through Rosie’s mind. She could see him sitting on a barstool in nearby Santa Reina and then swerving along the narrow two-lane back to the hacienda.
“Erik!” She snapped his name.
He paused, his hand on the open car door, and looked back at her.
“Promise me something.”
Aw, nuts.
Was she really saying this? Was she really swinging open the door to her Adopt the Hopeless Club? How grossly unprofessional! She was an idiot.
But she couldn’t help it.
She said, “Promise me you will buy your alcohol in town and bring it back here to drink.”
Without a word, he got into the car, started it, and peeled out of the lot, gravel spewing from the tires.
Dear Lord, please keep him safe!
L
ost in thought, Rosie drove more cautiously than Erik had. The long road down to the highway was dirt and gravel. It wound through the dark hills, lit only by stars and her headlights.
At a bend in the road she saw a figure standing near a turnoff and assumed it was Ben Beaumont. She remembered Erik pointing out the spot on their way up. His grandparents lived in an RV on the site, next to their future home.
Lowering her window, Rosie drew up alongside the tall elderly man and braked. “Mr. Beaumont.”
“Officer.” He wore a heavy jacket. His hands were stuffed into its pockets. Shadows played across his face.
“Are you going to be all right, sir?”
“Depends what you mean by all right.”
“‘All right’ as in you’re not going to do something you’ll regret? Something that will require the sheriff to pay a visit here?”
“No.”
“Glad to hear that. Sir, I really am sorry for the loss of your son. I cannot imagine the hell you’ve lived through all these years or the shock that just hit you today.”
He mumbled something indecipherable.
“Anyway, I hope things turn out for you all.”
“I wish the kids hadn’t brought her here.”
“They had little choice.”
“It’s a cock-and-bull story. I can’t believe they fell for it. ’Course, they never knew BJ. He was long gone before they were even born.” He shook his head. “I tell you, BJ would have gotten out of there if he had to crawl on his belly the whole entire way.”
Rosie had no words to empathize with the depth of his pain.
“He was nothing like Erik. That kid is a basket case. BJ was the star student, star athlete, star navy pilot. He had character, you know? Integrity. They just don’t make ’em like that anymore.”
“I’m sorry.” She paused. “What will you do about Tuyen?”
“Stay out of her way. Max and Claire can track down her information if they want. Indio can fawn all over her however much she wants. But nothing’s going to change my mind.”
“Not even the facts?”
“There’s only one fact that matters, and her name is Beth Russell. BJ’s fiancée. He never would have done this to her. Never. Not in a million years.”
Rosie watched the old man shuffle away, his shoulders hunched. Her heart ached for him and for all the Beaumonts and for Tuyen and now for someone named Beth Russell.
“Lord, don’t You think this prayer list is getting a little long?”
A
nd then there’s Beth Russell,” Max said. “How do we deal with her?”
“Who’s Beth Russell?” The question exploded from Danny, Jenna, Erik, and Lexi all at once.
Claire looked over at Max. He looked back at her, his fork midair, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead.
Approximately four hours earlier, Tuyen Beaumont had entered their lives. The situation still felt a bit awkward. A stranger was in their midst. BJ’s fate had finally been revealed. Was it a time to cry or celebrate?
Life went on. They got hungry and tired. With her daughters’ help, Claire prepared a light supper. Indio cloistered herself and Tuyen in the lone refurbished guest room to eat by themselves. Ben never returned to the house.
Claire and Max ate dinner with the kids in the kitchen. They sat at a long table in a corner near the fireplace. Against the walls were built-in benches, down one side of the table and one end, making it a snug family spot. The fire crackled and popped.
Max said, “Sweetheart, you know the story. Why don’t you tell it?”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Technically, Mom did.” Earlier, out of everyone’s earshot, Indio had told Max they would
think about Beth tomorrow. “I’m only repeating what she said because I think the kids should know what’s going on.”
“I never even met BJ. He’d been missing for ten months when I met you.”
“Please?”
She traced her fork around the half-eaten omelet on her plate. Since Tuyen’s arrival, Max had withdrawn more and more into himself. Although they hadn’t yet had a chance to talk alone, she understood that the news about BJ pained him and his parents beyond measure. They flailed about, searching for ways to cope. Max became uncharacteristically silent while his parents hid away.
Claire suspected that once they got used to the fact of BJ’s death, they might find a joy in the existence of his daughter.
Seeing Max’s tired demeanor, Claire felt a sense of being set apart. A realization swept through her: The mantle had been passed, the mantle of being matriarch. Its heavy weight and its suddenness caught her by surprise. Shouldn’t such a thing be passed on gradually? The closest thing she had to a wise response was to make tea.
Beyond Max’s shoulder, Indio’s wall of crosses came into focus. There were about sixty of them, in every style, size, material, and color imaginable. Framed sketches of Jesus also filled the space, from floor to ceiling. When the fire had torn through the house, it didn’t touch one cross or one picture.
Claire had told her mother-in-law to take her things into her new home, but Indio insisted they belonged in the hacienda itself, on the wall that had once been part of the early Beaumonts’ chapel.
Now Claire caught a glimpse of the power they represented, the one that Indio always called upon.
Claire smiled to herself.
Dear Father, Indio would say that You are here and that You are good
and that You love us and want the best for us. All right. I say that too.
And I ask that You help us. Thank You.
Erik cleared his throat loudly. “Will somebody clue us in sometime tonight?”
Claire looked up and became aware of tears seeping from her eyes. She wiped them away with her napkin, nodding at Max. He mouthed a thank-you.
She gazed at her children, one at a time. Her vision seemed different somehow. She wasn’t afraid to see what was there.
Erik’s pupils were too large, too glassy. Although he was not overtly drunk, yes, he had been drinking. And yes, that often was the case.
Jenna appeared much older with new crow’s feet and a worry crease between her brows. The wear and tear of Kevin’s absence was taking its toll. The fears for him at war chewed away at her self-sufficiency.
Danny’s eyes darted too much. He was hiding something from his dad, something he might acknowledge to Claire if she pressed the issue.
Lexi pretended to eat. An unopened half-gallon carton of mocha fudge ice cream was missing from the freezer. It wasn’t the first time two such circumstances collided.
Claire turned to her husband. “Max, fill in the blanks, okay?”
“Sure.”
She took a deep breath. “Beth Russell was engaged to Uncle BJ.”
“Oh, man,” Danny said.
Claire went on. “I met her a few times. She used to come and sit with us at that memorial Nana and Papa made for him, when we’d remember his birthday. The last time she came, you two, Erik and Jenna, were very small. Beth eventually got married and moved to the Northwest. Seattle, I believe. Anyway, she and Uncle BJ had been inseparable since they were five years old. He proposed the day after they graduated high school. From what I’ve heard, she was the female version of him: beautiful, popular, homecoming queen, valedictorian.”
Erik scoffed. “Engaged? How big a deal is that?”
Max said, “For them it was huge. They were seriously committed to God.”
“Yes.” Claire agreed. “Their faith was important to both of them.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” he said.
She smiled. “They were over-the-top committed, right?”
“Borderline perfect. For real.” Max rolled his eyes. “Jesus in blue jeans.”
“They held Bible studies right here in this kitchen, all through high school and college. They planned to be missionaries in Latin America. They both got degrees in Spanish and Portuguese.”
Jenna blurted, “Then why did he join the navy?”
Claire hesitated and turned to Max.
His face went hard. “The war news did him in. He couldn’t reconcile his life with the suffering. Being a missionary in the jungles of Latin America didn’t seem sacrificial enough. Even marrying Beth was out of the question until he settled the issue. He chose the war. He thought he could put an end to it, all by himself.”
Danny huffed a noise of disbelief. “That makes perfect sense. Go bomb North Vietnam and win souls for Jesus?”
Claire said, “It was more complicated than that. He had his pilot’s license by the time he was sixteen. Part of his missionary dream was to be a bush pilot. He was always fascinated with jets and the navy. Two of his best friends joined the navy right after high school. He met others in college who had already fought in the war. He felt he should serve his country before getting on with the rest of his life.”