Page 53 of The Time Keepers
Anh closed her eyes. “I am sorry, miss. You had terrible pain, too.”
“It’s strange because when I was younger, before I had my daughters, I could only imagine the loss of her through my own ten-year-old eyes, as the girl who lost a sister. But now that I’ve had my own children, Ialso see it through the eyes of my mother.” Grace took in a deep breath. “It’s terrible beyond words.”
The light changed in the kitchen as the sun shifted behind the clouds.
Anh grabbed one of the carrots from the bunch that Grace had peeled and washed for the soup they were going to prepare together. She picked up a knife and began chopping, but then paused. She turned and looked at Grace.
“I lost baby after husband was killed.” Her voice trembled. “I believe his death the worst thing that could happen to me, but I force myself to get up … I get up and I eat a few spoonfuls of rice and I wipe my tears, because I have child I need to take care of.” She put the knife down and lifted her hands to her eyes and began to weep. “But when that baby leaves my body, I feel I have nothing.”
The sound of rain began to patter against the window.
Grace lifted her arms and wrapped them around Anh.
“Now I must be mother for B?o,” she acknowledged between her tears. “But how? I know so little.”
“You know more than you think, Anh,” Grace brought her close.
“You have been his guardian in getting him safely across the world and you will make a new life for yourselves here. I’m confident it will all work out for the best.”
“Thank you,” she said before pulling away from Grace’s embrace. She turned to finish chopping the remaining carrots, regaining her composure.
Grace reached for the onion. As her knife slid into its layered center, she was grateful it provided her an excuse to wipe away her tears.
CHAPTER 54
JACK HESITATED FOR MORE THAN A FEW SECONDS WHENTOMinvited him to Sunday dinner. This time there would be two other guests besides him.
“Do you remember me telling you about that little boy, B?o, that Grace found on Maple Street?” Tom mentioned casually. “Well, she’s been volunteering at Our Lady Queen of Martyrs … helping him and his aunt learn English.”
“That’s kind of her.… Grace always tries to do the right thing.”
Tom laughed. “That she does.… anyway, we wanted to extend the invite to you, too. She’s making something called ph?. Some kind of noodle soup, I think.”
Jack put down his calipers on the watch he was working on, stalling for time while trying to come up with an excuse not to come.
Tom sensed Jack’s discomfort.
“I know what you’re thinking, but they’re from the south part of Vietnam … so that makes them the good guys, right? That’s why they were able to get sponsored here in the first place because they fought alongside the Americans.”
Jack forced a smile. In the years since he returned home, he no longer thought about the war in such simple terms. He might have arrived in Vietnam thinking the war was like a John Wayne movie where it was easy to divide the good guys from the bad, but the war had been nothing more than a senseless and futile effort made by the government with far too many lives lost. The only thing Jack knew for certain wasall the pain that still lingered. The North, the South, the American GIs, all of them had suffered.
“I get that, Tom … but you know it’s more about this …” Jack lifted a finger toward his face. “It’s kind hard to meet new people, if you know what I mean …”
“I understand, but Grace has been practicing making that soup with Anh and I think it would mean a lot to have you there.”
“I’ve been in a more solitary mood than normal lately.… I’m just not sure I’m up to it this weekend.”
Hendrix, curled up underneath the workshop table, lifted his snout and let out a little snort, as if to question whether his master was actually telling the truth.
“Well, think about it, Jack. You don’t need to tell me today. Sleep on it and let me know in a day or two.” Tom stood up and put his tools back in the drawer.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He bent down and gave Hendrix a rub.
Jack heard the door close behind Tom as he headed back home to his family, leaving him and Hendrix alone in the back workshop. He let out a deep sigh and Hendrix lifted his head, studied his master for a second, and then returned to his curled position on the floor.
“What do you want to hear, buddy?” He glanced over at the dog. “Don’t got an answer? Guess it’s left for me to decide …” Jack reached for a shoebox he kept full of his favorite cassettes. He pulled out a tape of Dobie Gray’s albumDrift Awayand popped it into the small boom box on the worktable. The title song, with its hopeful lyrics, soon floated through the air. The music began to relax him, and the discomfort of the dinner invitation started to lessen with each note.
In front of him rested an old Elgin watch from the 1950s whose owner had brought in for a repair.
