Sounds from the Đà Lạt Pine Trees

By T. Liem

Three people. Two sisters. One incredible journey. On one side of the world, an adopted girl struggles with physical handicaps, emotional challenges, and a seemingly endless journey to discover her identity. Unbeknownst to her, continents away, her sister desperately looks for a way to reunite their family. Along with them, a soldier fights his own battles long after the war has ended, searching for vindication and some kind of understanding of his noble role in the lives of so many through a time of such turmoil. The decade-long saga leads all three of them through confrontations with present perils and past memories of the war that tore their families and lives apart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Nov 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781645365181

T. Liem

T. Liem always wants to tell stories about the people of his native country, Vietnam. Subtly but generously, he injected his own memories and feelings into this fictional tale, which is his first attempt at writing a novel. Now retired and living in the Los Angeles area, he enjoys the part-time teaching job, watching movies, and the company of his children when they drop in.

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Closures

About The Author

T. Liem always wants to tell stories about the people of his native country, Vietnam. Subtly but generously, he injected his own memories and feelings into this fictional tale, which is his first attempt at writing a novel. Now retired and living in the Los Angeles area, he enjoys the part-time teaching job, watching movies, and the company of his children when they drop in.

Dedication

To my wife, Theresa, and my two children, Danielle and Vinh, whose love and patience help me every step along the way. I owe them all that I have accomplished while still dreaming for a little more.

For my parents and my brother, whose life stories gave me great inspirations and a clear purpose.

Copyright Information ©

T. Liem (2019)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Liem, T.

Sounds from the Đà Lạt Pine Trees

ISBN 9781643787886 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781643787879 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781645365181 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019911786

The main category of the book — FICTION / Historical

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published (2019)

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 28th Floor

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Watch the water fall on the treetops

Hear the troubled souls among the leaves dropped

Tumble into the past shade of haze blue

Walk the winding path too long to see way through.

The Pine Forest

The day she almost died started with a cold blessing she received in the pine forest. The five-year-old girl loved running into the midst of the woods where the tall trees touched the heaven. Sáng had to strain her neck to see that high, and somehow, she just knew that the sky could lead her to the furthest places imaginable. She was told that no matter where, she would always be covered and sheltered by the sky since it would remain the same, while all else, such as the trees, the houses, and the people as well, could change. She wanted to fly that high someday and to go that far away. She felt that it was going to be her destiny for a reason.

She disappeared among the pines. Each was thin but many made it a thick forest and a good place for Sáng to hide. Running barefooted, the playful little girl moved between the trees without the slightest care or the modest awareness of any possible peril. She skipped and stomped on the damped ground that felt cold but familiar to her feet. She ran deeper into the scene of greenery that was not just a lush forest by the city of Đà Lạt, but also her favorite setting for this game of hide-and-seek.

"Ba, hai, một," her big sister loudly emphasized the end of the count at three, two, and one. Singers on the radio have booming voices like that, Sáng thought about her sister, maybe she can teach me how to sing someday.

"Trốn xong chưa, tao đi kiếm tụi mày đây!" her sister issued the warning that she had started to go seeking. She then hopped along from rock to rock, tree to tree, probing and searching the area wide under the warm morning sun. Anywhere in this edge of the forest was always a fair playground for the two brave sisters and their friends, with or without permission by their parents.

Sáng noted a perfect spot. Ignoring the busy noises of birds chirping and roosters crowing, she stopped and listened to make sure that she was alone. She then sought to be surrounded by low branches and tall grasses. By herself for the moment, she felt more daring and ready to receive the cold breeze when it passed through these woods drenched by the morning dew. She settled in and prepared for a stay, perhaps long before she could be found.

Sáng looked up—all blue sky without a cloud. She looked down about her feet—all brown dirt with a smudge of mud. Her eyes then swayed to an object quite unnatural in shape. It had a menacing form of a man-made piece planted halfway below the dirt surface. Large or small, Sáng had no way of knowing its size. Her head tilted slightly for a better view, and her curiosity urged her to bend down and touch the mysterious object. It did not move because it was buried too deep. Sáng touched it again, this time with a little more force to pry it loose. She then grabbed it firmly and ripped it off the ground where it had lain for a time of apparent great length.

Sáng squatted down to rest her legs as she was determined to examine the curious, round thing like a small ball in a dried mud shell. She also noticed, this morning, that the fresh flowery scent was blended with something caustic and unpleasant. The last time she encountered such an odious smell, there was a combat firefight near the city and, as a result, bodies and houses were burned by napalm bombs. The raging war across Vietnam had, on many occasions, struck near home, although the city of Đà Lạt itself had generally been spared. Sáng was still too young to know what it really meant and neither could she imagine the danger presently lurking behind these rows of pines.

Sáng now had the object cradled in both hands. She flipped it side to side. She slowly scratched and wiped away the clinging dirt. The revealed dark-green paint reminded her of the guava fruits that her mother made her eat despite her disliking. The dangling hook ring made her think of the keychain her father carried in his pocket. It was, however, none of the things that she had ever played with or even seen before. It was a grenade.

As soon as she pulled the hook, Sáng knew she had done something she should not have. She dropped the rusty green object while turning her head to look for a way out. The grenade fell. It touched the ground and bounced up a little before it exploded.

Sáng had no time to run away. She was a mere few steps from where the blast was, only a meek pine tree between them. The scene reeled through her mind like a horrific nightmare except that the shock, the flash, and the burn were all too real.

Sáng had no time to react; it was only by instinct that she had her eyes shut and her face shielded. She had saved herself from the worst that could have happened.

Thunder? Can it be thunder on a clear day? Thiên wondered as she heard the loud burst. Sitting at the kitchen table, the young mother was slicing a melon for the meal that she usually prepared this time of day. She turned and saw a dusty cloud of dirt and leaves rising among the pines; from thereabout came the painful cry of a child. Thiên recognized that it was the voice of her dear daughter. She panicked and dropped the knife. "Con ơi! Sáng ơi!" she yelled as loudly as she could, out of breath. She rattled the table as she started to run out of the kitchen.

The knife hit the floor, a bowl slid to the table’s edge, and a jar fell on its side, spilling tomato sauce red as blood.

The squeal continued and it grew louder. Thiên kept running and searching although the exact spot where her daughter was she did not know; just the hysterical cry of the child that she was rushing toward.

Please, God, please love her and let her live, that was all the mother could think of as she thrust herself into the smoky cloud. The scream surged louder and more urgent when Thiên found her daughter squirming, covering her face with one hand while reaching out for help with the bloody other.

The mother leaped onto the ground to be next to her child. Thiên had to fight panic to compose herself just enough to see that the wounds were only on the face and the hand. Amid the loud cries and the gory sight, somehow, she had to remain calm and strong.

Thiên noticed only a few wounds around the eyes and she saw that the bleeding was just a trickle. Much worse could be said about the right hand that was trembling and convulsing. She cringed at the sight of it being twisted, mangled, and entirely bloody. The mother used all her strength to sweep the child off the ground and she carried the girl as best she could toward the paved street. She knew that someone ought to have a car there, ready to rush them to a nearby hospital. Her tears streamed down onto her red stained chest where her daughter buried her grimaced face.

As if silence could allay the tragedy in any way, no one else was making any loud sound. The few who passed by and heard the explosion all stood still with muddled thoughts and distraught feelings. All they could offer was some mumbled prayers and raw sympathy. They just witnessed another calamity of war and, sadly, they had long been learning how to live with it.

The car carried away Sáng, her sister, and their mother. As the blaring sound of the car horn disappeared, the scene at the pine forest stayed in bleak stillness. The grandmother sniffled loudly between long spans of quiet weeping. She felt guilty for having allowed the children running into the forest. She looked desperately for someone to tell her that her granddaughter was still alive or would somehow recover. At the very least, any word would help, but everyone turned away at the moment for not knowing what or how to share. She walked quickly back to the house and made a telephone call to her son. In a shaken voice, she told him what had happened and what hospital she thought he could go to find his daughter. She then hung up the phone but her lips continued to move.

The jar of tomato had spilled to empty when the old lady picked it up and settled it on the shelf. The trembling of her hands was more than what she was accustomed to and willing to accept as frailty of old age. She pulled out a cloth napkin to wipe her tears and then she wiped off the red sauce that was spreading over a large part of the table. Her actions were soft and deliberate to mask her emotions in turmoil. She finished cleaning up and then struggled to find a task to do while waiting for any news about her beloved youngest one in the family. She wanted to prepare a meal but could not. She could only sit idly in solitude and imagined being at the hospital, in the middle of the chaotically tragic scene like so many already that she had seen in her lifetime.

His old, rusty bicycle was no longer meant for any rough ride, but Minh was pedaling it as hard as he could. As soon as he heard his daughter being taken to the hospital, Minh jumped onto his vehicle and rushed through the streets of Đà Lạt, all the while with his finger ringing the bell. With no hesitation, he rolled over the sidewalks and crushed the fallen branches as they came. He brushed his shoulders against bodies who could not get out of his way fast enough. Wearing a military uniform, he took advantage of it to give the appearance of being on a pressing official duty. He was as panicky as any father would be with his child in danger, but he had to get himself safely through all the busy byways. He kept his calm just enough for now.

As a Captain in the South Vietnamese Army, Minh had seen plenty of tragedies of war, but never one that struck his own family. Although he had prepared for it the best he could, he still found himself utterly shaken beyond any experience he had been through as a soldier. He had to press hard on the handles to keep his trembling hands from veering the wheels too much off course.

Throwing his bicycle by the curb, Minh ran up the stairs and burst through the door, close to knocking it down. Once with his wife and his older daughter around him, Minh had a chance to recover his breaths barely enough to ask about the condition of his little girl. His voice was inaudible, drowned in the frenzied din of the crowded hospital. His fingers gently plowed into his wife’s shoulders while he coarsely begged for an answer.

"Nó…nó đang ở trong phòng mổ…" replied Thiên, saying that their daughter was still in the surgery room. Her eyes desperately looked at her husband, not as much to comfort him as to appeal for his understanding and forgiveness. She made no attempt to hide the guilt and the self-pity that she felt.

The wholesome visage and slender figure were the alluring features that Thiên possessed and subtly displayed in good moments. Nevertheless, although only in her late twenties, she already carried signs of permanent weariness on her appearance. The appealing eyes grew tired and the bright smiles became rare over the years. The challenges and pains that came with raising a family in trying times, she had endured and enjoyed them all. The two young children were all she was so proud of and all she had to live for. Dedication and faith were the life-guiding tools she had to rely on. She knew of no other way. Today, with a tragedy unfolding, she had been holding up fairly well.

Thiên struggled to describe the accident but very few words came out. She could barely point toward the room where their daughter was taken. Only doctors and nurses were allowed to go in there, according to the warning sign on its door.

Still in the hospital lobby, Minh turned to his first-born daughter, Ánh, in search for more answers. He offered a comforting look to soothe his distraught child. His knees on the ground, his hands on her hair, Minh waited for Ánh’s reply.

Ánh was just as devastated as her mother, with her eyes still crying although tears had long dried up. Her shirt wore the red stains that had been aged to a brown color. She had a chance to embrace her sister for a short moment on the frantic car ride. She was there for her but felt so helpless and lost. The image of the harmed girl crying out in pain was still haunting Ánh as she stood frozen under a ceiling fan. The cool air helped but could not