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My hands were trembling by the time I finished the letters. I went outside and sat in the porch swing and gazed at the trees beyond the barn. It didn't soak in right away and I had to re-read the letters.

The news rendered me confused and numb, I was still unable to absorb it. Part of me felt betrayed. Jason had to have known and believed he had a child, yet he never told me--he wrote a letter. I remembered the woman named Ling, in the red dress, who I'd taken to the hospital to fuck Jason when he was injured. There was also a young Vietnamese soldier who Steve had fucked at the Trent. But the names were mere coincidence. I remembered with a cold chill that I'd fucked Ling myself when Jason was gone on a mission. I didn't remember the time frame to determine if the boy could be mine, but he had already acknowledged that the boy was his. So he was Jason's son. Ling's visit to the hospital apparently wasn't the only time he had fucked her, for I had carried that heavy load of his out of the hospital that night in the condom.

I didn't want to feel trapped, but I did. Being responsible for a fifteen-year-old boy was not in my game plan. But betrayed, trapped, even a little angry, it all added up to one thing; I felt suddenly drawn very close to Jason again. It was as if he were reaching out to me after all this time. I read the note from Sister Marie again.

Her desperate plea moved me as much as young Jason's letter, and despite the emotions that churned in my gut, my mind was already operating clearly to sort out all that needed to be done. I was already thinking that Colonel Brown might be able to help cut through the red tape if I could locate him. I wondered if I should tell my parents about the letters. What about Jason's parents, the boy's own grandparents? I decided to hold off. No sense building up false hopes.

I did not respond to the letters right away. A tiny, selfish part of me didn't want any part of it. I had managed to get on with my life and I didn't see how bringing this boy into it would do anything but screw it up again. What was the sense of bringing a live piece of Jason back into my life when it wouldn't be Jason? It would be only a part of him, and I wasn't sure I could live with that. I would be setting myself up for more of the pain and heartache that I'd spent all these years burying. But it wasn't such an easy cut and dried decision. I struggled with it for days, and weeks, till my reason for not responding to the letters became one that I didn't want to give the boy false hope. I would have to find out what my chances were of bringing him to the States before making any contact with the orphanage. In that decision alone, I knew I had lost the battle to shut him out of my life. I suppose I knew all along that I couldn't abandon the boy, but I put up a good and selfish struggle.

My first contact was to Colonel Brown. It took a myriad of phone calls to locate him. Colonel Brown was now a brigadier general. I was thankful and surprised to hear him say that he remembered me.

"I hope you remember me well, sir," I said.

"Absolutely. It's hard to forget the good men who served with me," he said.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that. Not many people back home share your sentiments."

"You weren't exactly the most orthodox interrogator I ever had, but you did a hell of a job, and saved a lot of lives," he said.

"Thank you, sir."

"What can I do for you, Courter?"

General Brown listened patiently to my dilemma, and I realized he was taking notes.

"This was your buddy who got killed? This is his son we're talking about?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

He said he thought he could help me, with his contacts in G2. As I hung up from talking to him, I felt my world beginning to turn upside down, because I knew that now that a general had hold of it, things would start to happen fast and there would be no backing out. Over time I had managed, in a manner, to get over Jason. I never forgot him; I thought about him every day, and I still ached for him. But I was able to get on with my life and relegate the past where it belonged, to be brought out on those special times of my choosing, when I wanted to reminisce. And now he was in my life again. Very much alive and in my life, for Jason, Jr. was his flesh and blood.

I still did not write to Sister Maria, and certainly not to Jase. I wished I could write and give them some hope but if it all fell through, then all I would've done was cause them disappointment and heartache. I needed hope myself first.

I was surprised how quickly I heard back from the Army, from a Major Hunt in G2. He said he'd gotten a call from General Brown, and said he could get the wheels turning but he warned that it would be a long process; sometimes two years or more. I didn't care how long it took, as long as I got Jase to the United States. Now that I felt things were on track, I wrote to Sister Marie and included a note to Jase.

Dear Sister Marie:

I did not respond to your letter sooner because I didn't want to offer any false hope that I might be able to bring Jason, Jr. back to the States, only to have those hopes dashed by some bureaucratic mess-up in the paper work. Yes, after a long struggle with the matter, I have decided that I can indeed fit the boy into my life. It will be a long process, I am told; a lot of red tape, as the United States doesn't have diplomatic relations with Vietnam. It will all have to go through the Swiss Embassy.

I have read how the children of American GIs are not accepted in Vietnamese society. I do hope and pray you are able to keep him off the streets till I can bring him to the United States. I am enclosing a money order for $100.00 to go toward his support, or for any purpose you decide. You are better able to make that decision than I. And I will send a like amount each month. Perhaps you could give him a little bit of the money for his own to spend so he would not feel so compelled to go on the streets. And would you please give the enclosed note to him. God Bless You.

Best regards,

Brad Courter

Dear Jason, Jr.

Or Jase; which do you like to be called? I didn't write to you sooner because I first wanted to be sure that there was a chance of bringing you to the States. I knew your father well. He was my best friend in Vietnam. He was the bravest man I knew. Yes, he died in a plane crash, returning from visiting his family in the US. I brought him back and buried him in the state of Ohio. I met your mother once as well. She was a very beautiful woman. I'm sorry you could not find her. I am glad that you were able to find out who your mother and father were, and I'm glad you and Sister Marie wrote to me. It was the right thing to do. I told Sister Marie it will be a long process. It sometimes takes two years or more for the paperwork to be completed, so we will both have to be patient. Meanwhile, I know you are being well cared for by Sister Marie at the orphanage and I expect you to repay her kindness by behaving as she tells you. I know of your problems there in the new Vietnam, being of American blood, but you must keep your head held high. Do not ever forget that your name is Jason Seaborne, Jr, and that your dad would expect it of you.

Your friend,

Brad

The ball was in play, although I would not know, except occasionally, whose court it was in. I received short notes from Sister Marie and Jase almost immediately. I was surprised the mail could move that quickly between our two nations. Sister Marie wrote;

Dear Mr. Courter,

I weep as I write this letter to you. I had no false hope as I waited for you to respond to my original letter. I knew in my heart that you were a man of honor and that you would do the right thing by Jason, Jr. even though you say you struggled with it. I understand government bureaucracy and the necessity of the Swiss being a third party will only delay matters, but we have been and will be patient. I thank you so much for the money you sent. You have no idea how far a hundred dollars will go over here. And yes, I will give Jason some spending money of his own; it was a good idea. God bless you, Brad Courter.

Sister Marie

And Jason wrote;

Dear Brad;

Sister Marie says I may call you Brad since that's the way you signed your letter. I can't tell you how happy and grateful I am that you are trying to bring me to the United States of America. Sister Marie says you are a saint in disguise and I agree. I am also happy to know someone who knew my father. You are the only one and I am so anxious to hear your stories about him. I want to visit where he is buried in the State of Ohio when I get there. Thank you for the money you sent to Sister Marie for the orphanage; she is giving me some of my own to spend. I thank you for that. I am not a very patient person, but I know you are doing everything you can so I will be patient till I can come to the United States. My problems here, of being part American, will not be so bad now, and I will hold my head high as you said my father would expect me to do. Actually, I am secretly proud of my American blood. It makes me bigger and stronger and more handsome than my few secret Vietnamese friends. Thank you again for all you are doing.

Jase

I had to laugh at his remark about being bigger and stronger and more handsome, and I knew Jason must be laughing as well. He sounded just like him.