And I found Millie. She was happy about starting a new life together. She knew I wasn’t doing it just to get out of Vietnam. We were already married in the eyes of God, and that’s what counted. Now we’d make it legal to get out of an illegal war. She didn’t want me coming back to her in a body bag.
Millie had the money her father owed her for working on his miniature golf course. Not a lot, just enough to jump-start our lives. She said she had some pictures to show me. I was not going to believe them. She slid these glossy black and whites from her bag. Pictures her father’s private detective had taken of us by the Art Museum. The man in the tree wasn’t a pervert after all. Or maybe he was. But the real pervert, Millie said, was her father. No way would she ever go back to him.
“You’re w
