“Of course,” said Condley. “Because if it was not for me, she never would have died. And you know something? If it wasn’t for her, I might not have stayed. So in a way, we did it to each other.” He watched her face, wondering if he should say it. “I was a very good fighter, Van. The war is over but I have no qualms in telling you that. They couldn’t catch me, your father’s friends. They couldn’t kill me. And so they went after her. I lived, but in the end they killed my heart.”

“That is sad. But I cannot believe your heart is dead. Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I never stop thinking about it. She had the courage to love me, and yet in her own way she never betrayed her family either. She took care of us both. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but the burden was always on her. And then she bore my burden as well. She wasn’t a soldier. They never should have killed her.”

“Do you hate my father for that?”

“No.” Condley finished his beer. “I respect your father.”

“You confuse me, Cong Ly.”

“It’s very simple if you think about it.”

“Anyway, I’m not like her.” Van shrugged almost casually when she said it, as if she were tossing away the past with the quiet movement of her shoulders.

“It’s not fair, I know,” he said. “But some things that you do remind me of her. Your laugh. The way you dismiss problems by making fun of them. Or maybe it was just the peace I felt when we left the temple.”

Her eyes caressed him. She smiled, making her offer seem as natural as the simple touching of a hand. “Would you like to make love to me?”

“No,” he said carefully. “I think that would hurt.”

“Because of Francois?”

“No.”

“Because you don’t like me?”

“No.” He watched her dancing eyes. “Because I’m afraid I do like you.”

The restaurant had closed. Its weary owner watched them impatiently, wishing to clean their table and go home. Condley stood, walking her outside to her motorbike. As they reached the bike, she stopped for a moment, looking into his face as if he were a puzzle to be figured out.

“It’s nice that you didn’t want to,” she finally said.

“I did want to.”

“Then it’s nice that you didn’t. I would have felt bad afterward.”

“I’ll see you again?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“When?”

She watched him for a long time, as if she were waiting for him to come to her and at least kiss her good-bye. Her eyes were laughing, though, and her smile was filled with satisfaction. “Don’t tell anyone we were together tonight,” she finally said. “I’m still with Francois.”

“He buys you nice things,” he said.