us came home.
“Ma’am,” Reese finally said. “I didn’t know.”
I folded my napkin.
“No. You didn’t.”
“I was just making sure—”
“Making sure what?”
He glanced at the soldiers watching us.
“That everyone here belonged.”
I nodded slowly.
“Then perhaps you should have started by asking instead of humiliating.”
His face reddened again, but this time he had no audience to impress.
The young woman from the next table approached.
“Ma’am?”
I turned toward her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have said something.”
I smiled.
“You’re all right,
sweetheart.”
She looked at the photograph.
“Were you really a nurse in Vietnam?”
“Yes.”
“Were you there during the fighting?”
I looked down at my hands.
“More than I would have liked.”
She sat down beside me.
Her name tape read MARTINEZ.
She was a private first class.
“I’ve seen that photograph,” she said. “It’s in our history class.”
“Then your instructor is doing a good job.”
She smiled.
Reese still hadn’t moved.
He finally cleared his throat.
“Ma’am, I owe you an apology.”
I looked at him for a
