A Fortunate Destiny

A FORTUNATE DESTINY

By

Graeme Bourke

* * *

Published by

Graeme Bourke on Smashwords

A FORTUNATE DESTINY

Copyright 2011 by Graeme Bourke

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Smashwords Edition license notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

This is a work of fiction. The characters and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

* * *

Vietnam

1974

Kyle Benson’s strong, powerful arms sliced through the water as his feet beat in rhythm to his well-timed strokes. The cool soothing waters caressed his body as he swam out past the surf, rounded the swaying buoy, and then picked up the pace. Striking out for the shore he drove himself, pushing beyond the pain barrier, testing his endurance, speed and fitness. Fifteen minutes later his feet touched the hard sand beneath the curling emerald waves. His body was just as lean and strong as it had ever been. He sported a golden tan, courtesy of his now easy lifestyle beside the beach.

Kyle picked up the soft-white towel from the yellow sand and proceeded to wipe himself down. Then something caught his eye on the track leading down to the beach. It was Ho, his friend and companion of the last eight years. He was riding his rickety bike and he was coming fast, way too fast in fact. He was waving something in his hand. The bike’s spindly wheels suddenly sank into the soft sand and his small wiry frame was catapulted over the handle bars. Somehow, he managed to land on his feet. He ran to Kyle with the magazine in his hand.

Bensum, you on cover of Time Magazine, gasped Ho, trying to catch his breath, at the same time he was attempting to hold the magazine steady in front of him.

From the very first time they had been introduced in Vietnam Ho had always called him Bensum, for some reason he couldn’t pronounce Benson, even though Kyle had spent considerable time trying to teach him to say it properly. The message never seemed to get through, so he gave up after a month or so and just accepted it.

Ho, have you been into my whiskey again?

No, Bensum. Look, it is you. Ho was pointing to the picture of a soldier on the front of the magazine.

It doesn’t even look like me, Kyle said, snatching the magazine from Ho’s wavering hands and studying the picture.

It doesn’t look like you but hat on head is yours. No one else ever wear a hat as stupid as that.

Well, now the truth is coming out, scowled Kyle.

Look again, Bensum, he carry axe on belt like you and he has long knives strapped to his legs. It is you.

Bullshit. Kyle passed the magazine back to Ho and began walking toward the bungalow with Ho hot on his heels."

There is photo of girlfriend from Phouc Tuy inside, said Ho, fumbling through the pages.

Kyle stopped, turned, and faced Ho. If this is some kind of joke, I will knock what is left of your teeth out of your bloody head.

No joke, Bensum. Ho passed the now open magazine to him.

Kyle stared at the picture, it was indeed Cherie. She was holding a small blond haired girl in her arms and beside her was her brother Darren and two other men, one of them was in a wheelchair.

Kyle took the magazine from Ho and gave him the towel. Slowly, he started walking back to their thatched bungalow, reading the story as he went. Ho ran forward and opened the door for Kyle. Ho proceeded to the liquor cabinet and poured out a neat shot of whiskey while Kyle sat down at the bare-wooden table. He was still engrossed in the magazine.

Ho put the whiskey down on the table. Kyle reached out and took the glass and swallowed it in one gulp. He didn’t take his eyes away from the article in the magazine. Kyle handed the glass back to Ho who returned to the cabinet and poured out another drink. Ho looked around to see if Bensum was watching, he wasn’t. He quickly swallowed the contents of the glass, filled it back up, and put it on the table beside Bensum. Ho stood back and waited while Kyle continued to read. Eventually, he finished reading and put the magazine down on the table, took a swig at the glass of whiskey and then rested his head in his hands.

* * *

A bit over six years ago Kyle had gone back to Australia on leave, to Melbourne. Why he had gone back he wasn’t sure, but when he arrived he regretted it immediately as it only added to his torment and brought back memories that he would rather forget.

He pulled the black full-length leather coat tighter about his strong body as he strode onto the bridge that crossed the river, his footsteps muffled by the wind. A sudden chilling gust sent a cold shiver right through him, this winter weather was unfamiliar and he felt the discomfort. He tugged the wide-brimmed black hat down over his eyes as biting and almost frozen rain stung his face. Numbed hands sought the sanctity and warmth of his deep pockets.

Over on the other side of the bridge was a café, a safe haven away from the weather. While here it had become his place of refuge, a place where he could sit quietly and allow his mind to wander into that space where physically, he dare not go. It had been a simple life back then, once cherished, once nurtured, but now fenced off by an invisible barrier in his mind.

As he approached the centre of the bridge a shadow appeared beside one of the plain-gray concrete piers. Honed instincts immediately came into play as his body tensed. Too many years in a culture of distrust, anarchy, and confusion had done its job. In every corner he saw a potential enemy as the smell of danger still lingered in his nostrils. But as he came closer the blurred figure began to take on a shape, he saw that it was a young woman with her head bowed as if in prayer. He relaxed. She presented no danger to him.

Slowing his step, he stared at the young woman whose eyes were fixed onto the muddy waters below. Was she contemplating jumping off the bridge? If she was, then it was none of his business, let her jump. A quickening stride had him over the bridge and in sight of the warm beckoning lights of the café.

Then suddenly he stopped, a faint but discernible memory flashed through his mind. He tried in vain to ignore it. Looking up into the darkness of the night he whispered to himself and maybe to a power beyond him. This can’t be happening. He hesitated, undecided which way to go, forward or back, he chose to go back.

* * *

Cherie Chambers stared at the brown swirling waters below. Why she was here in this spot she was unsure. But it seemed the thing to do, to stand here and stare at something that was moving, living, and eventually going somewhere. She knew that the water would find its way to the sea, regardless of the obstacles that were put in front of it. It knew its destiny, which was to reach the sea. But what of her own destiny, where was she heading?

After tonight she had nowhere to live, no one to love her, and worst of all the singing career she yearned for seemed as far away as ever. She thought about going back home to Highfield with her tail between her legs and admit that she had failed. No, she could never do that, her pride wouldn’t allow it. Cherie shivered as the cold night air penetrated through her stiff-fawn overcoat and the thin cotton dress she was wearing.

* * *

Are you okay? asked Kyle, standing close to the young woman, but not so close as to make her feel threatened.

She was still staring down into the turbid muddy waters. She turned her head slightly.

Kyle could now see the fine facial features even with the dim street lighting. He felt a small moment of panic, then it passed, his faded memory had been right, he knew this woman. There was no mistaking the tiny ringlets of blond hair that hung down to her shoulders and the intense blue eyes that echoed pain and despair.

This is not a very nice place to be, he added, when she did not reply.

It’s as good as any place, she said, in a soft whispery voice, her eyes still peering down at the water below.

Just over the other side of the bridge there is a nice warm cafe with hot coffee.

Cherie turned her head further so as to see the man better. She peered directly into his grey-blue eyes that were staring back at her from beneath a wide-brimmed hat, for some reason she felt at ease with this stranger.

I don’t have any money.

My shout.

Cherie shrugged her shoulders. What have I to lose?

The semi-subdued lights from the window of the Red Rose Café glowed yellow in the darkness as they approached the glass door. The stranger opened the door for her and Cherie immediately felt the warm air from within wash over her. She stepped inside. He followed, shutting the door and leaving the cold and squally rain outside.

They were met by a swarthy dark-haired man in his mid forties standing around five-eight with a neatly trimmed moustache, slightly curled at the ends. He had an olive complexion and spoke with an accent. He was obviously of Mediterranean descent.

May I take your coat, sir?

Thank you, replied Kyle, taking off his coat to reveal light brown sports trousers and a plain white shirt. He removed his hat and shook the droplets of water off onto the tiled floor.

Cherie took her damp coat off. The stranger was staring at her. She was wearing a rippled, aqua-blue evening gown that fitted her like a glove accentuating her full figure.

My name is Federico, said the man to Cherie as he took their coats and hung them in a small cloakroom near the front door. I’m the manager and that is my lovely wife Maria behind the bar. He pointed to the thin woman with long brown hair tied back in a pony tail. She smiled and waved to them.

Federico was dressed impeccably in a dark striped suit and his short black hair was slicked back. A table for two, I presume?

Yes, replied Kyle.

Federico led to the far end of the room. The Red Rose Café was a small restaurant with only about a dozen tables decorated simply with red and white table cloths. The carpet was bright red and the lighting swung towards a shade of orange which tended to give the room a warm tranquil feeling. Behind them at the very end of the room was a small stage with a piano and a microphone.

Would you like a drink first, sir? asked Federico as they sat down at the table in the soft-red velvet covered chairs.

Just two cappuccinos will do for the moment thanks.

I’ll leave you the wine list and the menu. He made his way to the bar where Maria took the order. He then sauntered off to talk to some of the other customers. There were only about six people in the restaurant.

Cherie Chambers looked at the man sitting across from her. The first thing that struck her about him was his very short hair, in fact it was so short that he was almost bald. His face was well tanned and his muscled forearms, that were now revealed as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, were also tanned. He was probably from up north somewhere, Queensland maybe. She guessed his age to be in the mid twenties. He would be at least six feet tall and his body looked strong and firm beneath his shirt. A small scar ran down the side of his chin and he was rather handsome. When the stranger had approached her on the bridge and disturbed her thoughts, she had wanted to tell him to leave her be. But something within her had been stirred. Was it a sense of hope?

Do you come here often? asked Cherie.

I have been lately.

Are you a business man?

You might say that, said Kyle, staring directly into her eyes.

She averted her eyes from his gaze.

And what about you, what do you do?

I am, or was, a singer.

That can be a very rewarding career.

She didn’t answer him as Maria sat the two cups of coffee in front of them, smiled, and then returned to the bar. Cherie sipped at her coffee as her mind went back to those few devastating moments a couple of hours ago when her world had come crashing down around her. She had been at a nearby restaurant with Brad, her boyfriend, when he had told her that their relationship was over.

Would you like something to eat? he asked.

I’m not really hungry, replied Cherie.

Then you don’t mind if I eat?

No, of course not.

Kyle waved to Federico who quickly came over. I would like to order the Fillet Mignon, well done, with mushroom sauce and side salad, a bottle of chardonnay and two glasses.

And the young lady?

She is not eating.

Very well, sir.

Do you mind if I ask what you were doing on the bridge tonight?

Cherie looked at the man who was a complete stranger to her. Her first instinct was to tell him that it was none of his business but something inside of her wanted to talk, wanted tell him of her pain and anguish, so she began from the very beginning.

"I grew up in a small country town called Highfield. I always wanted to sing and my mother saw to it that I had singing lessons. I struggled through the lessons even though my tutor said I had a good voice. I think my problems had more to do with the distractions of a teenage life.

When I was eighteen a band from the city came to play at one of the local halls and I met one of the band members, a guy named Brad. I told him that I could sing and that I was looking for a job. I suppose now that I think about, I was really looking for an escape out of the single mindedness of a small country town. The city promised excitement and a chance at a singing career. Brad was handsome and he offered me the opportunity to sing with the group after I sang a couple of songs with them. Against my parent’s wishes, I left with the band.

Cherie stopped talking as Maria approached with the wine. I must say that you two look the perfect couple. Maria smiled as she poured some wine into a glass for the Kyle to try.

He sipped at the wine and nodded his approval as his eyes met Cherie’s. When Maria left, Cherie continued.

At first it was all so new and exciting. Then it became a drag, living in hotels and never having any money. I had my own ideas about the band and Brad and I began arguing, I probably knew in my own mind that it wasn’t working. But I was still chasing a dream.

Cherie paused and took a sip of wine, her throat felt dry. She wiped a stray tear from one eye. Federico turned up with the Kyle’s meal.

Please continue, he said, slicing into his steak.

Tonight was supposed to be a special night of celebration. Brad had secured a contract to play at one of the top hotels in town. Then he dropped his bombshell. He didn’t want me in the group anymore, and most of all, he didn’t want me in his life. He had found another woman to warm his bed.

He watched Cherie as she took