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Show #fz "I'm not sorry," I said suddenly. "If i hadn't been willing to break one rule, I wouldn't have h e r . And Brian would be in Vietnam anyway. Maybe h e ' l l come back. But i f he doesn't, there'll be something of him t h a t l i v e s on. That's important." Jeanne nodded and squeezed my hand. Her soft brown eyes were full of t e a r s. I had made i t my p r a c t i c e to read each night u n t i l I was exhausted so that I would not spend the hours before sleep longing for Brian. One n i g h t I f e l l asleep around one o'clock and awoke an hour l a t e r when the baby s t i r r e d and whimpered hungrily. I put her in bed with me and cradled her a g a i n s t my b r e a s t . She sucked noisily at f i r s t , then f e l l i n t o the deep, even rhthyms that comforted both of us. "Thank God for you," I whispered. In so many ways, I was s t i l l a c h i l d - not much of a mother. But I was grateful for t h i s t i n y companion, t h i s piece of Brian. Brian. I thought of him and the old ache stabbed. I clenched my t e e t h t o g e t h e r . No. I would not think of him. It was insane. To think of him only made everything harder - would make i t unendurable i f something happened to him. Three months before, a S a l t Lake boy had been k i l l e d , a youth who had entered the Utah Platoon with Brian. Brian had w r i t t e n, asking that I give h i s condolences to the boy's mother* ' I t was my f i r s t d e t a i l in combat zone - loading body bags. p And Scott, from my hometown, was the f i r s t . ' fa 6m*M. But when I c a l l e d S c o t t ' s mother, she had not been informed of her son's death. He was only m i s s i n g - i n - a c t i o n , she informed le- I blanched and s a i d nothing. Three weeks l a t e r , I read in the newspaper about the funeral - a closed casket ceremony £°rthe boy -toCt had a c t u a l l y ^ i e d a month before, but who |
