LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER ONE

      Da Nang, Vietnam

      April 15, 1965

      “Maman, must you go to the military base at Da Nang?” Dany Villard spoke to her mother in French, trying to keep the concern out of her voice as slender Amy Lou Villard glided elegantly toward the dated blue Renault parked in front of their plantation home. Really, at twenty-six she shouldn’t have to worry about her mother, Dany thought. But sometimes it felt like Amy Lou was the daughter and Dany the mother.

      Dressed in a summery silk dress, Dany’s mother was every bit the plantation mistress, airily waving her hand as if to dismiss Dany’s concern. A wide-brimmed white straw hat shaded Amy Lou’s delicate skin from the burning sun overhead.

      “Ma cherie, one does not turn down a luncheon invitation with a marine general, does one?”

      Standing tensely on the wooden steps of the porch, her fingers digging into the carved rail, Dany frowned. In a fierce whisper that she wanted no one—not even their loyal Vietnamese help—to overhear, Dany said, “But what about Binh Duc?” Dany knew that if the local Vietcong chieftain even suspected the Villards were consorting with the Americans, their rubber plantation would no longer be safe. “Maman, think!” she pleaded. “Please! Don’t expose our neutrality like this.”

      Whirling on the high heel of one pink sandal, Amy Lou laughed as she opened the car door. “As usual, Dany, you worry too much and you think too much. Binh Duc has promised to allow us to remain neutral.” She wrinkled her small, fine nose. “I’m sure the American marines at Da Nang would like us to take sides in this ridiculous situation, but we’re French, and we’re not at war with the VC, or anyone else.”

      Dany stepped off the stairs. Probably her mother was right, she told herself. Still, her heart pounded with a strange feeling of dread. Compared to her mother, who was dressed in the latest French fashion, a gossamer creation in a print of pink, red and white peonies, a three-strand choker of pearls around her neck, Dany felt plain. Well, wasn’t she? She glanced down self-consciously at the long-sleeved blue cotton blouse that hung to her thighs, the simple pair of dark cotton slacks and her bare feet, stained by the red earth. Yes, she was a colorless bird next to her beautifully attired mother.

      “But, Maman, Binh Duc warned you about the Americans coming here!” A marine general had shown avid interest in her mother, whom he’d met a few months ago at a charity luncheon at a newly erected Da Nang French restaurant. The general had sent his official staff car to pick up her mother soon after, and Binh Duc had snuck into their home the next day, threatening her mother that if he ever saw another American on Villard property, he would have to reconsider their neutral status. Dany distrusted the VC leader, whose political fervency was fanaticism in her opinion. She could accept his determination to practice Communism, but Dany couldn’t tolerate his cruelty in forcing his belief on others.

      “That’s why I’m driving our car to Da Nang, ma chérie.” The new military base was located next to the Vietnamese city. “I told the general no more staff cars or men in uniform coming to our plantation.” Amy Lou’s smile didn’t reach her carefully made-up blue eyes. Patting her pale blond hair, she said, “Stop fretting, Dany! You always act as if Duc knows our every move.”

      “He does,” Dany warned grimly. Long ago, the revolutionary Vietminh commander had given his word to her father that he would leave the Villard plantation alone. Binh Duc was the most recent in a series of commanders who had accepted the long-standing agreement. However, Duc was becoming more skittish and demanding every month. The truce with him was fragile, and Dany didn’t count on it, even if her unrealistic mother did.

      The Villards had a similar pact with the South Vietnamese Army—the ARVN—and the

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