The Lotus Bride

By Alicia Brown

A True Story of Young Love Romance and a Death-Defying Escape From Vietnam

#1 Amazon International Bestseller in TWO categories! #1 Bestseller in Historical Asian Biographies and Women Writers. EIGHT #1 Hot New Release Lists on Amazon in two countries, USA and CA: Historical Asian Biographies, Women Writers, Women's Spirituality, Vietnam War Biographies, History of Vietnam, Vietnam War History, Asian History, and Southeast Asian History.

Based on a true story and set against the backdrop of a family wedding that seems to be hurtling toward a runaway bride ending, The Lotus Bride takes us on the inspirational journey of Tho, a determined and resilient Vietnamese refugee who risked everything to live the life she envisioned for herself and her two sons.

After a childhood of hand-to-mouth existence made worse by physical and emotional abuse, in an era marked by the ravages of the "American War," young Tho realizes her dream of a healthy and peaceful life in the United States. Now rechristened "Alicia" to symbolize her new beginning and in a place of happiness beyond her most fervent expectations, she arrives for the weekend of her son Vinh's wedding to find the bride-to-be, Julia, battling a severe case of cold feet amidst a reunion with an old boyfriend.

Alicia and Julia establish a psychic connection as Alicia – trusting her instincts to believe in Julia's genuine love for Vinh – recounts her story of young love, a tempestuous fight for independence, and surviving firsthand a death-defying escape from Vietnam and later unspeakable domestic violence by her drug-addict husband. The two women's strangely parallel emotional journey brings Julia to face her deepest fears, but any answers to be discovered in Alicia's often harrowing tale may not come in time to rescue the man they both love from unbearable heartache.

The Lotus Bride serves as a timely reminder that, with the combined forces of hope, determination, and love, possibility can become reality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alicia Brown
• Release date: Mar 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386123989

Alicia Brown

Alicia Tho Brown was born in Can Tho village in Vietnam. Alicia Brown (Tho), escaped the country about five years after the fall of Saigon. Her family was granted asylum from a refugee camp in Thailand and settled in Little Rock, Arkansas. She now lives in Las Vegas, NV with her husband of over twenty years, Dr. Gregory Brown.  Find more about Alicia at: https://www.ConsciousWellnessLtd.com  https://www.facebook.com/AliciaThoBrown https://twitter.com/tho_brown

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

THE TAMPA COUNTRY CLUB was fronted by a gated entrance so simple that it belied the extravagance behind it. The grounds were rumored to be manicured with fingernail clippers, if need be, and they could be restored after a storm with more efficiency and expertise than the best crew at any top major league baseball stadium. For good reason: its wealthy members had expectations that did not include their landmark events being held up by something as mundane as the weather.

The Singer wedding was just such an occasion. Singer was the bride, the daughter of founding members, so the other half of the pairing didn’t matter until the signs had to be made. Extra crew was called in for the cleanup. The surprise storm had caught them all off guard, bashing the early preparations into water-logged wastes of time. But they had pulled it off. By the time the early arrivals stepped out of their luxury imports, it looked like the storm had ravaged everything in Tampa except the Club.

The cake designer had come prepared with a makeshift tent covering to protect her creation – and subordinates to hold it – but found it unnecessary, with the newly installed awning that allowed the three-tiered wonder to go from delivery van to service door without so much as a thought of windblown droplets disturbing the delicate detail. I shouldn’t be surprised, she thought. Look at this place. She followed her most reliable assistant through the narrow corridor as he wheeled the wedding reception’s main attraction to the banquet hall.

Each door in the bridal party dressing area was marked with an elegantly inscribed name plate tucked into the permanent holder on the door. Nice touch. The cake artist dared to dart her eyes to the occupants of the ‘Brown/Singer Wedding – Groom’ room. That’s it. Brown. Couldn’t remember.

Inside the room, Vinh Brown let his father fix his bowtie for the umpteenth time. Vinh was Vietnamese by birth, but the patient middle-aged American straightening the corners of his neckwear was the only man he’d ever relied on as a father. Vinh studied Greg’s reflection in the mirror. You’re worried, aren’t you?

Greg stepped back. There, that’s got it. Nope, I’m not. And you shouldn’t be, either. Don’t make me say it again, Greg thought. I’ve never been good at lying, especially to my boys. He spun Vinh around to get a look at him. Great. Perfect.

Vinh nodded. You, too, Dad. Where’s Mom?

Need something? I can get it.  Greg tried not to sound like he was deflecting the question.

No, just feels like it’d be nice to have her around right now. Vinh risked tipping his hand on the doubt gnawing at the corner of his mind. How did you know, Dad? With Mom, I mean?

I just did., came Greg’s ready answer. It clicked for me right off. But I had to wait for her to catch up.

The response gave rise to another nervous question. But how do you plan a future with somebody’s who’s not where you are?

Greg held his son by the shoulder. You don’t plan the future, you –

Vinh finished for him; this part, they’d done before. ... can only live it. I know.

Their conversation was interrupted by Lan, best man and messenger. Lan, at twenty-one, was about seven years younger than his brother, but in the tuxedos, they looked like a matched set. We’re still on standby. Lan glanced at Greg, as discreetly as he could. I’m not telling him, he thought. My job is to buy some time.

Vinh missed the signal between his brother and father. Have you seen her?

Nah, but you know they take forever to get ready, Lan tossed back casually. He ducked out even as Vinh talked himself into accepting the half-lie.

Yeah, you’re right. Vinh looked at Greg. He’s right. They do.

Greg stopped Vinh’s fidgeting with a hand on his shoulder. Son, Julia is the love of your life. And you’re hers. It’s all fine.

VINH HADN’T ASKED JULIA for a date until they’d already been out twice. They’d first met at an outdoor arts festival. They were both at a booth to buy a print by a local artist. Julia had seen her work hanging in a restaurant close to the hospital. Vinh had been strolling by, just taking in the sights and sounds, when he was struck by one particular piece. It was the same one Julia wanted, an abstract of a tropical flower, and there was only one left. He liked the combination and blend of color; she liked the symmetry.

Okay, rock-paper-scissors you for it, he’d challenged.

What are we, twelve? Julia had asked, even as she covered her fingers for the first throw.

Vinh’s observant eyes had picked up on the small muscle movement on the back of her hands – She must work with them, he’d thought, and she’s not wearing a ring – and knew she would take scissors. He intentionally took paper so she could have the print.

Julia suspected as much, but thanked him anyway. Tell you what. I’ll buy you an overpriced organic juice. You save money all around, and you get to brag about how healthy you were today.

Deal. But first... Vinh had snapped a picture of the print with his phone camera. At least I can look at it.

The juice ‘thank you’ had turned into more than an hour of local politics, vacation comparisons, and musical tastes. They had parted ways mutually charmed, but since neither of them was looking for a relationship – Julia had just gotten out of a serious one, and Vinh had just been promoted at work and wanted to focus – hadn’t exchanged numbers, or gotten too personal, or taken any of those preliminary steps that would have further memorialized their meeting.

As it happened, Vinh’s company held the contract for managing Tampa General’s benefits package for its professional staff, and his new position gave him lead over the account. He had visited the hospital to familiarize himself with the administrative and organizational infrastructure, and accepted an offer to tour the facility and speak to some of the doctors. He ended his visit in the surgical wing.

Are you stalking me? Julia was in scrubs, fresh out of a surgery, and only half joking.

I had no idea you worked here. Practiced here. You’re a surgeon? Vinh had found himself uncharacteristically nervous.

You look positively flummoxed. And yes, I am. She laughed at him as she pulled on her lab coat and ran her fingers across the embroidered label for Vinh to read.

Julia Singer, M.D., Orthopedic and Spinal Surgery. Yep, says so right there on the coat.

The coincidence confirmed by Vinh’s tour guide, Julia had sprung for a second drink: hospital coffee. She had been drinking it for so long during residency training and fellowship, and now her first year as an attending, that she didn’t realize how bad it was.  

You have to try my place, he’d declared, grimacing at the hospital fare. Best coffee in Tampa, guaranteed. Try the mocha and mandheling blend. I think you’ll like it.

I will, she’d said, not intending to go.

But days later, early on a Sunday morning, she was in the coffee shop. So was he.

Oh. I was just... I’m on my way to work, and I thought—-

Are you stalking me? You look positively flummoxed. Vinh had enjoyed the serendipitous payback so much that Julia had to join in with his laughter.

She gave him her number when he asked. It wouldn’t be a big thing to hang out, they both figured. Just for the company. A year and a half later, they were engaged.

IN THE BRIDE’S ROOM, there was a hand-detailed custom dress, a dumbfounded mother, and a patient nanny-housekeeper-family glue, but no bride. Julia Singer was nowhere to be found.

Tessa Singer, half a century old but forever a southern belle, paced back and forth past the hanging dress, emitting a louder sigh each time. Tessa, a woman who always dressed to the nines, had of course taken it up a notch for her daughter’s wedding. But she fought the urge to rip herself out of the perfect mother-of-the-bride attire, just so she could scream without hindrance. Consuela’s calm countenance only made it worse.

How can you just sit there? I swear, if she’s with Alicia and not calling me...

Consuela, different from Tessa more by money than age, closed the book she wasn’t reading anyway. You’ll do what? It wasn’t a question; it was an accusation. Consuela had been with the Singers for years, had practically raised Julia, and whether any of them wanted to admit it or not, she was part of the family. She could get away with talking this way, even if she was on their payroll.

Don’t take a tone with me, Tessa defended herself. If you were a mother, you’d have done the same thing.

Invite trouble into my house? Never.

It’s only trouble if you can’t handle it.

Jim Singer stuck his head into the room. How long before we call this thing?

The unacceptable honesty behind the question sent Tessa over the edge. Why would you ask a thing like that? What have you heard? Get in here. Jim knew too well what he was in for. He went in nonetheless. Tessa closed the door behind him, first taking a peek down the hall to make sure nobody heard her husband. She caught her breath at the sight of the one-of-a-kind cake being wheeled down the hall.

Jim shook the ice in his drink glass. It obviously wasn’t his first of the day. Nothing. And that’s why I’m asking. Brides aren’t late. Brides are early. They show up, unless they don’t.

Tessa took the glass from him. How many of these have you had?

Not nearly enough. But Jim had another point to make. Tessa took their money for granted, but he didn’t have that luxury. I’m paying for an open bar for two hundred people who cleared their schedules.

Consuela had seen enough skirmishes between these two to know when to make herself scarce. Speaking of which, I think I’ll check that out.

You can’t just leave me here like this, Tessa hissed, feeling the sting of abandonment. What am I supposed to do? She downed what was left of Jim’s drink. Why don’t you call her? She’d answer you. But heaven forbid she listen to her own mother. Why do these things always happen to me?

Consuela thought Tessa might hear the outrageousness in the hopefully rhetorical question, and she could escape without having to speak more of her mind. A practiced glance flitted between Consuela and Jim. She had to answer. Julia wouldn’t hurt anybody on purpose. She’ll explain herself to everybody when she gets here, she said diplomatically.

That wasn’t enough to assure Tessa. Somebody needs to go and tell Greg to call his wife and see what the hell is going on. He gives that woman way too much leeway. Jim attempted to seize the opportunity to jump in when his wife took a breath, but he made the mistake of clearing his throat before speaking. Tessa was off again. Like she’s some guru sitting on a mountaintop, spouting nonsense and passing it off as wisdom from on high. Just because she’s Asian –

I’ve got to put a stop to this, Jim thought. She’ll take her crazy right down the hall to Vinh. Vietnamese, Tessa, to be precise. And frankly, I admire a man with a wife he can put on a pedestal. Tessa’s glare ripped straight through him. He checked with Consuela again; maybe that was too far. It was; Consuela didn’t look at him. Then, she left. Nice to have that option, Jim thought. He tried to regroup. Look, what would you have me do? Give me an idea.

Oh, you’re willing to actually do something? Tessa derided him. A time machine would be nice. We could either go back four days and fix this mess, or jump to tomorrow and be done with it.

Jim took his glass back from her, and examined it for any remaining traces of alcohol. Finding none, he elected to suck on an ice cube. Practical and feasible. I’ll get right on that. He lifted the glass to Tessa as if to set his mission off with a toast.

I couldn’t despise him as much as I think I do. It’s the stress. Where the hell is Julia? Tessa thought, before she started pacing again.  

There had been a time when Tessa worried that Julia would think her parents’ marriage was not rooted in a genuine love for each other. They seldom did any complete thing as a couple anymore. An event might appeal to both of them, but they would attend for different reasons, and had even made separate plans until one discovered the other’s. Projects around the estate were accomplished by caveat (Tessa) and acquiescence (Jim). Vacations were planned to provide Tessa with shopping, socializing, and touring, while Jim played golf. The parties they were so well known for were all Tessa’s (and Consuela’s) doing; Jim merely showed up when he was told, and dressed appropriately. On one occasion, a friend congratulated Jim on hosting