“There, too?” she said, smiling despite herself.
“Yes, there, too.”
She shook her head. “You are a most unusual man, Lieutenant Cazalet.” She paused. “I suppose, if we get out of this, that I owe you something. Would you have dinner with me?”
Jake grinned. “Countess, it would be my pleasure.”
There was the distant thud of rotors rapidly approaching and several Huey Cobra gunships came in, line astern. Cazalet took two recognition flares from his pocket, a red and a green, and fired them up into the sky. The sound of the Vietcong voices faded as they retreated and Cazalet took her hand.
“The cavalry arriving in the nick of time, just like the movies. You’ll be okay now.”
Her hand tightened in his as they waded out into the paddy field and one of the gunships landed.
The Excelsior was French Colonial from the old days and the restaurant on the first floor was a delight, a haven from the war, white tablecloths, linen napkins, silverware, candles on the tables. Cazalet had waited in the bar, a striking figure in his tropical uniform, the medal ribbons a brave splash of color. He was excited in a way he hadn’t been for years. There had been women in his life, but never anyone who had moved him enough to contemplate a serious relationship.
When she entered the bar, his heart turned over. She wore a very simple beaded white shift, her hair tied back with a velvet bow, not much makeup, a couple of gold bracelets, a diamond ring next to her wedding ring. Everything was elegance and understatement, and the Vietnamese head waiter descended on her at once, speaking fluent French.
“A great pleasure, Countess.” He kissed her hand. “Lieutenant Cazalet is waiting at the bar. Would you care to sit down straight away?”
She smiled and waved to Jake, who approached. “Oh, yes, I think so. We’ll have a bottle of Dom Perignon. A celebration.”
“May I ask the occasion, Countess?”
“Yes, Pierre, we’re celebrating being alive.”
He laughed and led the way to the corner table on the outside veranda, seated them, and smiled. “The champagne will be here directly.”
“Do you mind if I smoke?” she asked Cazalet.
“Only if I can have one as well.”
As he leaned across to give her a light, he said, “You look wonderful.”
She stopped smiling, very serious, then smiled again. “And you look very handsome. Tell me about yourself. You are a regular soldier?”
“No, a volunteer on a two-year hitch.”
“You mean, you chose to come here? But why?”
“Shame, I think. I avoided the draft because I was at college. Then I went to law school at Harvard. I was working on a doctorate.” He shrugged. “Certain things happened, so I decided to enlist.”
The champagne arrived, and menus. She sat back. “What were these things?”
So he told her everything, exactly what had happened in the cafeteria and its consequences. “So here I am.”
“And the boy who lost an arm?”
“Teddy Grant? He’s fine. Working his way through law school. I saw him when I went home on leave. In fact, he works for my father now during his vacation. He’s bright, Teddy, very bright.”
“And your father is some sort of diplomat?”
“In a way. A brilliant lawyer who used to work for the State Department. He’s a Senator now.”
She raised her eyebrows. “And what did he think of your enlisting?”
“Took it on the chin. Told me to come back in one piece and start again. When I was last on leave, he was campaigning. To be honest, it rather suited him to have a son in uniform.”
“And a hero?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but your medals do. But we’re forgetting the champagne.” She picked up her glass. “What shall we drink to?”
“Like you said, to being alive.”
“To life, then.”
“And the pursuit of happiness.”
They clinked glasses. “When do you go back?” he asked.
“To Paris?” She shook her head. “I’m in no hurry now. I don’t really know what I’m going to do next.”
“Now that you’ve laid the ghosts?”
“Something like that. Come on,” she said, “let’s order.”