Condley found himself chuckling softly, mostly at himself. He could not help but feel somewhat leery of the welcome he was receiving, and yet he was undeniably seduced by it as well. Something had changed since the last time he had seen her, either in Van’s relationship with Francois Petain or in her feelings about Condley himself. From her parents’ warmth toward him and the knowledge of her intimate activities that was evident in the colonel’s words, it was even possible that in the intricate, Vietnamese way, a family decision had been reached and he had become the front-runner in a race that he had not even consciously entered.

“I’m not used to being treated so nice,” he finally teased, working to shift his focus from the careful dialogue with her father to her breezy and openly inviting charm.

She smiled confidently, lifting her perfectly sculpted chin and looking out the window toward the front gate. “Do you want to have dinner with my parents or do you want to go away with me?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“To dinner.” Her eyes grew musky with what seemed to be a memory. “But before that—someplace. A place I go to dream.” She gave him a hopeful smile. “You told me something last time. A secret from your heart. I want to show you something from mine.”

“Is it far?”

“What do you care? We’re not on a cyclo.” She stood, looking down at him, her hands on her hips, overwhelming him with nothing more than her raw, natural beauty. “Let’s go.”

He suddenly grinned, rising from his chair and now standing over her. “Your bike?” he asked.

“I drive,” she laughed. “You would get me killed.”

Sitting behind her on the bike, he immediately put his arms around her waist. As she pulled out onto the alleyway he gently squeezed her to him, warning himself all the while that he should not dare to like her and that she was not yet equipped, as her father himself had said, to understand the implications of the very forces she was putting into motion. Then her soft hair fluttered in his face as the motorbike sped forward, air-brushing all such thoughts away.

Making a turn, she dropped one hand onto his leg and patted it for a moment just above the knee.

“I did miss you,” she said, surprising him with her words.

The motorbike left the winding back roads and reached Dien Bien Phu Street. He saw Dzung just off the curb on one corner, lazing in his cyclo as he waited for his assigned hour to pass. When she turned onto Dien Bien Phu they came very close to Dzung. Condley called to him as they passed.

“Di ve nha,” he said. Go home.

“Da, di.” Dzung waved casually to Condley as the motorbike gained the main road, leaving him behind.