Claire and Tony shared the same smile, the same feelingof futility.
For the first time in her life, Claire felt as if she hadsomeone else who didn’t mind sharing her burden. She justwished she knew whether that made her feel better or not.
The following days passed much the same for Claire. Atthe hospital she fought for her patients and her staff againstthe twin specters of death and bureaucracy. At home shefought to get Jess into a summer session to make up for thetwo classes she had indeed flunked. She kept score at soft-ball games and scraped together enough money to fix thetruck so Johnny could get to his new job. She worked on theplans with Tony and the architect they’d chosen and workedaround Bea’s fragile health and Peaches’s temper to run asmooth, satisfying restaurant. And at night, every night, shesat in her kitchen talking kids and cars and historic renovations with Tony Riordan over beer and wine.
She got by, just as she always did, except for the fact thatfor the first time in twenty years, she didn’t face that nightalone.
It should have made her feel better.
It didn’t.
In a perfect world, she would have enjoyed the fact that she and Tony had taken to talking and laughing and bickering like old friends. She’d note the fact that she’d starteddressing with a particular man in mind, that she instinctively knew when he approached and began to smile. Thatshe anticipated him and missed him and wanted him.
Wanted him. It had been so long since she’d even hadtime for dating, much less the inclination. Since she’d considered herself pretty enough to attract a man.
She had in Nam, at least during the first months. She’d had suitors at the base and the enthusiastic attention ofevery conscious soldier who passed her way. It had taken hera while to realize that what they’d wanted had been more than she’d been able to offer.
She’d taken even longer to realize the same about Sam.Dear Sam. Hurting, angry, frightened Sam, whom she’donly wanted to help.
She hadn’t helped anything.
So it had been a very long time.
In a perfect world, none of that would matter anymore.She could dress up and flirt and pretend that the shadowsthat lurked in Tony’s eyes didn’t mean anything. She couldlook forward without having to look back.
In a perfect world, Tony wouldn’t have felt the need to bethere in the first place. So Claire went to work and helped her children and did her best to balance what she wantedwith what she needed with what she feared.
Tony met the woman in a Denny’s on the outskirts ofRichmond. Mary Louise Bethany, short, squat and squaredoff down to her haircut and sensible shoes. One of thewomen at the Richmond vet center, she had agreed to talk to him about Claire.
“Can you get her to come in?” Mary Louise asked, taking a drag from her cigarette.
Tony shook his head. “I can’t even get her to talk abouther time. She’s got a lot of pressure right now.”
Mary Louise nodded. “I can bet. I got a peek at her records. I think we might have somebody who served with herin the area. I’m not sure if she’s willing to talk, though. Alot of women aren’t yet.”
Tony rubbed at his temple in frustration. “Were youVietnam era or in country?” he asked.
“In country. Twelfth Evac at Cu Chi in ‘68. I know what she’s going through, Mr. Riordan. I attempted suicide fourtimes before somebody had the guts to haul me in for help.”She smiled then, and it held a wealth of understanding. “Wewomen aren’t as likely as men to admit PTSD. And even ifwe are, until recently the only services set up were geared formen. Women had different experiences. They react differently.”
“How?” Tony asked. “I know PTSD. I just don’t knowwhat to do forher.”
Mary Louise considered him from behind a curl ofsmoke, her bright brown eyes wise and weary. “We internalize it,” she said. “Men act out, women self-destruct. Weassume a bigger and bigger load of people to help, as ifthat’s going to make us feel better. We have the same ragesand urges to self-medicate, but we blame ourselves.”
Tony nodded. “Sounds about right.”
“The only problem I can see you having is that you justdidn’t suffer the same traumas she did, and that’s a big partof it. She doesn’t feel as if she has the right to complain to you when she could get drunk at the end of her shift, andyou had no end of shift.”
“I had plenty of time off,” he said. “I probably had moretime off than any of you guys did.”
For the first time, Mary Louise smiled. “Precisely. But tryand convince her of that. Sounds like she’s walking that bigbrink right now, Mr. Riordan. I’d be happy to come outthere, if you think if d help.”
Tony stared into the depths of his coffee as if it held magicanswers. He thought about what he’d brought to Claire’shouse and what he still had to do.
He thought about what he wanted.
“Tell you what,” he said, lifting his attention back to thewoman who wore her Vietnam ribbon as a jacket pin. “I’llcall you on it.”
Mary Louise nodded. Stabbed out her cigarette in hersaucer and faced Tony with aggressive candor. “You needto convince her to get help. It’s the only way she’s going tomake it through.”
