CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
The gentle but oft gusty mid-November breeze brushed the tall grasses side to side in a swirling ballet of colour and shape. Across the fields a thin wisp of steam could be seen snaking from a high funnel, evaporating while carried off on the winds.
It had been a dry month thus far but the temperature was cooling and the years’ harvest hopefully bountiful. The constant din of machinery almost drowned the hundreds of voices chattering in high-pitched, elongated tones. The workers always talked to while away the time spent in such a monotonous environment. But that was naught to Thi Mai as she passed through the factory floor on the way back to her office on the southern side of the vast cannery. Her mind was elsewhere. Lost to the meaning of an email received overnight and how best to reply: if at all.
The cannery ran day and night and Thi Mai kept hours not dissimilar. The work ethic of her family, and her people, coursing through her veins. During the early morning hours she would sit at her computer reading the multitude of emails demanding her attention. Today though her attention was focused only on one. A short, bizarre message from an unknown .com.au suffix.
Mitchell Atherton’s enquiry of her aunty took Thi by surprise. Kym hadn’t yet arrived in the office and Thi Mai chose to reply without bothering her elder for an explanation. It might be nothing. Then again it could be everything. Calmed by her customary glass of sugar cane juice, she typed a response in her native tongue. After reading it again, Thi Mai converted it to English. In it, she confirmed she was the niece of Kym Ho who was alive and well at the age of sixty-four. She confessed her cô often told stories of the war, both exciting and terrifying, and on occasion spoke of a ‘well-groomed and polite Australian serviceman’ she’d fallen in love with during the conflict. Like Mitchell’s before, her email was succinct and answered very little with Thi deciding it safer to remain coy and slowly see what the Australian wanted from her aunty.
Thi Mai Tham was born in the late 1980’s and fortunately never saw the atrocities of the Vietnam War. But she did prosper in its aftermath. Her father was extremely industrious and equally hard working, building the family business into a Vietnamese empire. He achieved success by surrounding himself with only those he trusted. His family. The fickle character of people engaged in a civil war against a totalitarian regime fostered that behaviour, but like any father, Tham Trong wanted better for his kin. Luckily for Thi her eleven older siblings bore the brunt of their father’s bitter learnt lessons, and it was the surrogate motherhood of her cô teaching Thi the softer things in life. Of greater human frailties.
For as long as she could remember, Kym would take Thi away from the flurry of the burgeoning cannery and show her the beauty of her land. They walked through the rice fields toward the sanctuary of adjoining paddocks and wander the ever-recovering terrain torn apart by mortar and napalm. Their favourite resting place was by a crook in the river beneath the shade of a battle spared Silky Oak tree. The waters there never rushed, except after monsoonal floods, but in constant flow to an unseen delta on the coast many miles away. Her aunty took the river as a metaphor for life. We are all merely drops in a vast sea she would say, surrounded by thousands of equally insignificant drops. Together, we move as one and follow the flow to our own personal delta. But Kym taught Thi even droplets of water took their own course when desired. They could escape the others whenever wanted. Caught by the leaf of a half-submerged reed, or splashed away by a feeding bird. They would evaporate in the heat of the tropical sun, be drawn to the clouds, then fall to earth as rain in another part of the world. To start again. Nothing was set and nothing was finite. As a child Thi never understood the intended meaning of such an analogy, but the older she grew listening to her auntie’s lessons of life, the more she suspected Kym Ho was anything but a droplet in a slow-moving river. One sunny afternoon many years ago while lying on the flattened grass by their favourite tree, Thi asked her cô why she’d never become ‘rain’. The reply was as simple as it was ambiguous.
“Because my cloud was taken away, and I await its return.”
The computer had faded to black when Thi Mai returned from those thoughts. The cloud her aunty referred to so abstrusely may very well have returned. She added one last line to her email before sending. After everything her aunty had done through the years, all the sacrifices she’d made, all the love given where others ignored, that was the least Thi Mai could return.
It read, ‘Tell me your true intentions.’
≈
It was years since Mitch had been to the international airport. Once known very well with his time spent travelling, he saw it now changed. Bigger. Newer. The crowds were the same though.
Even this early in the morning parking was scarce. He idled motionless in the entry queue, Albert silent next to him oblivious to the commotion, resolutely looking at nothing. All the while twisting the fine thread of a silver necklace methodically between his fingers.
He was apprehensive the night before when told of the arriving guests. Mitch chose to do that at the last possible moment and only when he knew arrangements were certain. He’d been in regular email contact with Thi Mai over the past month, even speaking on two occasions as their intentions grew serious. Thi hadn’t told Kym of the plans either. They first wanted everything finalised. By then it was hoped too late to back out, and with the expected euphoria of seeing a lost love, Albert and Kym would hopefully be thankful of their efforts.
The dozens of emails slowly revealed more information and only when each was confident the other was genuine did Mitch disclose his true intentions. He found difficulty explaining his relationship with Albert, even more in explaining the plate. In the end he ignored the latter. Mitch simply said in Albert’s fading years he wanted to see Kym Ho again. Similarly, Thi told of many occasions her aunty spoke fondly of her lost solider and that she missed him terribly. She’d never forgotten him. While Kym hadn’t intentionally remained faithful, her feelings never waned, only growing stronger as the years passed. Mitchell could more than identify with that. It became very clear Albert and Kym Ho had to reunite.
Tham Yo Industries was extremely successful. As the largest exporter of canned vegetables in Vietnam the family were wealthy in their own right. Thi Mai was insistent she pay for the airfares and accommodation, and Mitchell equally insistent they’d be catered to while in Australia. But the visit could only be a short one. Four days. If they were wrong and the reunion not well received, then at least the lost time wouldn’t be detrimental. On what grounds Thi Mai justified a quick trip to Australia to her father and her aunty Mitch would never know. But the plans were arranged in less than a month and once confirmed, there was no turning back.
Now the day had come.
The arrivals hall reverberated with the excited chatter of people anxious to see loved ones. Children lurched over steel barriers stealing a glimpse down the arrivals chute, men nursed bunches of flowers hoping to impress their ladies. Albert though stood silent and Mitch worried this was a mistake. He was given little time to wonder further because the first wave of passengers soon began exiting through the automatic doors. In time, those doors would stay open with increased traffic, but Mitchell knew their guests would be out well before then. He looked for luggage tags with the Vietnam Airlines logo, but more importantly those in the red livery of First Class. But that was not necessary. Thi Mai told Mitchell she would be wearing a bright yellow sweater and easily recognised. It wasn’t long before an older Asian lady rounded the corner from immigration accompanied by a young girl wearing the same type of jumper. Mitch knew it was them. He held Albert’s arm lightly and whispered,
“Here they come.”
Albert tensed with the words and stood fuller; slightly puffing his chest to hide the advancing years. The sliver chain he carried from the car park, in his hands only moments before, disappeared. It had been safely retuned to a small box and tucked somewhere in his dapper tweed jacket.
The ladies closely matched in height looked more like mother and daughter than aunty and niece. With similar features and almost identical postures, both women looked nothing as Mitch expected. In his mind he’d created a persona for Kym Ho of an aging farmhand sun bronzed and stooped. What a fool he now though of himself. Language wouldn’t be a barrier as Kym and Thi both spoke fluent English and Mitch greeted them with a broad smile and awkward hello.
Only Thi Mai responded. Kym only had eyes for Albert standing next to him.
“Hello Mitchell. So lovely to finally meet you,” Thi Mai replied. “Thank you for coming out so early to greet us.” Mitchell shook her hand lightly, and such was his excitement, felt compelled to kiss her courteously on the cheek.
“Thi Mai, it is our pleasure. And may I welcome you to Australia,” he said politely finishing with a forced laugh the others returned. “And you must be Kym. I am very honoured to meet you.” Kym took Mitchell hand in both of hers and bowed slightly. No kiss was offered. “And this strapping young man I’m sure you already know.” Mitch motioned toward Albert but the gesture was mute. Albert was looking directly at Kym Ho. His eyes hidden behind dark glasses, but the reaction obvious. A tear gently rolling down his cheek said it all. Any doubt over their meeting after forty-four years apart evaporated in that tender moment shared between the lost lovers. Kym Ho placed her hands on Albert’s cheeks and drew him closer to her five-foot frame. Her tears mirrored his and spoke so softly only he could hear the words among the noisy surrounds.
“Chiến binh của tôi . Tình yêu của tôi.” My Warrior. My Love.
Albert replied in Vietnamese taking Mitch a little by surprise; but then nothing about Albert really surprised him anymore.
“Công chúa. Tôi xin lỗi vì những gì đã xảy ra. Tha thứ cho tôi." Princess. I am sorry for what happened. Forgive me.
Mitchell and Tai could do nothing than respectfully wait and let them enjoy the tender moment they’d waited nearly half a century to exchange. Hundreds of passengers filed passed but Albert and Kym were blind to any of them.
The conversation during the short trip to the hotel was cordial. Tales of their time spent in Saigon during the war were back filled with others they didn’t know since. Thi and Mitch remained silent, exchanging countless glances though; very pleased they found each other. After checking-in to the hotel they arranged to meet later that afternoon allowing time to shower, relax and settle from their long journey.
Back in the car Mitch expected some of Albert’s trusted observations or humour. Neither came. He sat in stone silence as he’d done to the airport. The thin silver necklace running lightly through his fingers making another appearance.
“Not what you expected?” Mitch finally offered having suffered silence too long.
“On the contrary,” Albert responded, “exactly as expected.”
He’d told Mitchell weeks before of seeing Kym every day in his mind. As he remembered, but imaged how she would’ve aged. The sound of her voice had never left either, but there was one thing he’d forgotten.
“She even smelt the same,” he added almost to himself before returning to silence.
Mitchell was disappointed not learning more of Albert’s thoughts but respected his choice and only imagined what impact seeing Kym Ho must have had. He wondered further the impact in a few days.
Albert invited Mitch in for a drink and although it was still quite early, both agreed the morning warranted a celebration. And a discussion. Mitch could justify not telling Albert of his plans to this point, but would sooner or later need to explain why Kym Ho came to Australia. To see him. Or rather for Albert to see her. There were only three days to make that happen and if Albert didn’t endorse the idea then all would be a waste of time. Mitch had to tell him about Ethel. About everything.
Given the time of day the depth of scotch was respectable. Mitch though disposed of his in one gulp. The morning sun just reached the rear veranda and he drew a deep breath before venturing.
“Albert, I arranged for Kym and Thi to come to Australia for a special reason. It wasn’t just to catch up again, but to give you something. Something I suspect you’ve been standing on the plate for months thinking about.” Mitchell quickly wished he’d made his glass bigger.
“You know of course we can step off the plate and stay in the past, but Albert, I’ve discovered something more around that.” He turned to find Albert starring at his now empty glass and waited for a response. One never came.
Mitch explained how he’d tried to change his lunch with Juliana and how the mulberry scarf was now travelling the world with her. He thought that a breakthrough at the time but overall wouldn’t make a difference to his situation. If Albert sensed Mitchells’ regret in the telling he didn’t say a word.
“Do you know Ethel and Lyle Bartholomew who live behind me?” Mitchell asked.
“I’m sorry Mitchell, I don’t.”
“Well, when I first moved into my house Ethel was a widow,” he paused for a reaction, none came. “she isn’t anymore.” This time he did react with a cocked head and bewildering smile.
“You saved his life Mitchell…how?” Albert asked.
The bottle came to the table and their glasses refilled as Mitch explained everything. How he found winning lottery numbers previously never won, how he bought the paper currency and how he cleverly arranged for Ethel to receive the winning ticket unnoticed. The money’s main purpose was for an operation, but the side effect of helping Megan was an unexpected blessing. The only mistake Mitch admitted was leaving a seemingly useless clue Ethel took little time in deciphering.
“And before you say anything Albert, yes I know things are dangerous, you keep saying that, but this time it worked out OK….But that’s only half of it.”
“Why am I not surprised there’s more Mitchell?” Albert offered sarcastically.
“After helping the Bartholomew’s, I realised the plate might help others too. My situation was never going to change but others might.” Mitch said the words with all sincerity still wishing the plate could resolve his problem. He went on to explain his theory of two people travelling to the past. If both thought of the same moment in time then perhaps they would be transported to that time together. With Ethel now a confidant Mitch took her back a few days testing the theory. It worked. And better than expected. He quickly added to alleviate any doubt, of taking another trip alone to stop Ethel recalling the journey.
“So, Albert. If you and Kym Ho can do that, go back far enough in time together, do you realise what will happen?”
“I will get to see her again Mitchell.”
“Exactly Albert! You will see Kym Ho again. Though regrettably for only ninety-nine minutes.” Albert was silent considering the possibilities. Mitch wondered if he would reject the offer claiming it couldn’t make a difference and only fruitless to put himself through any further pain. He’d feverously made that point earlier and Mitch hoped maybe he’d changed his mind. Mellowed perhaps. What he said next surprised Mitchell more than the expected rejection.
“You did all this for me Mitchell?” Albert asked almost apologetically.
“Yes Albert of course I did. The plate was meant for more than just daydreaming,” Mitch paused looking for the right addition. “It was meant for life dreaming.”
“Mitchell, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. It’s what friends do for each other,” he quickly replied before adding, “consider it an early Christmas present,” to help dismiss the awkward affection shown between them.
“Does Kym know about any of this?”
“Nope, not yet. Neither does Thi Mai, but she knows something’s up and willing to help make it happen. That’s why she’s here.”
“Jesus Mitchell, how the hell did you manage to explain this to Thi over emails, let alone convince her to come to Australia and try it?” The vulnerability in Albert’s tone and use of words told Mitchell he was genuinely surprised by the gesture.
“I really can’t explain Albert. All I know is that Kym Ho means the world to Thi and she wants this for her aunty as much as I do for you.”
Had it been evening, or even later in the day, another drink would have appeared. Instead, the two men, the two friends, looked out at the morning sky wondering how to pull this off. Without warning Albert reached over to tap his hand on Mitchell leg.
“Thank you,” was all he said.
Mitch didn’t need to ask. He instinctively knew. Any doubts Albert held of changing his life, or tampering with the past, had vanished.
≈
Mitch suggested Albert get some rest and headed home to do the same. He should have gone for a run, or training session as they’d become, but decided that could wait. Instead, Peanut was let into the house and they lay on the couch together, Mitch lightly stroking her belly and planning how best to convince Kym Ho to step onto the plate with Albert. His analytical mind found several options but in the end he reasoned the simplest would be the most effective. Tell the truth.
Despite the ridiculous situation and any number of ways explaining it, once Kym stepped off the plate the truth would be discovered anyway. And if Albert choose to ‘wander off’, then Thi Mai would see two people disappear into thin air. The truth was the only option.
With that problem solved Mitch easily drifted to sleep having only had a coffee and two small whiskeys for breakfast. Peanut’s snoring soon joined his and she occasionally shifted on the couch in a vain effort to get comfortable.
A chime on his phone woke them both. It was around midday and he imagined Albert was anxious and maybe needing to talk. Mitch casually read the screen discovering it wasn’t a text message but an email; just like the others with a picture attachment and the bold lettering LUOSTO in the subject banner.
Although recieving eighteen of these now, Mitch was excited to see Juliana and sat up awkwardly before opening it. The photo was mostly black but an unmistakable kaleidoscope of colour was very clear. It was the Aurora Borealis fracturing a cloudless night sky. Patterns of light swirled hues of deep red, amber and florescent greens forming ribbons like glacial shale in a subterranean cave. And standing before a row of heavily snow-laden trees was Juliana. Beautiful as always. Radiant as the lights behind her.
Hidden in her blanket of polar clothing, Mitchell saw the purple tone of the mulberry scarf around Juliana’s neck and smiled. He Googled Luosto to learn it was in Finnish Lapland and almost 4.00 am there now. The email was sent just seconds ago and was the closest he’d been to Juliana in years. Weeks had passed since her last email and Mitch tried hard not to think of her: even harder not to reach out. But something implored him to now send a reply. But what difference would it make? Would it change anything or the way Juliana felt? A reply would only complicate things.
Mitch compulsively chose to respond and struggled to find the right words. In the end he settled for:
It looks magical. As do you. I Miss you xxx
He pressed reply and hoped it the right decision. Stealing another quick look at the photograph, he ushered Peanut outside to go for a run. Punishment for his stupidity he reasoned.
Mitchell’s training was going as planned. He ran further every day and focused only on beating the chime of his running app. The most important run of his life would come soon and there’d be a point where he couldn’t put it off any further. But he needed to be ready. A bit more training wouldn’t hurt so he ran hard that afternoon regretting his compulsive email to Juliana.