"Or shall I first clean your spectacles?"
He nodded slightly, and she took them and wiped them on her robe. When she handed the glasses back to him, his hand touched hers, and her heart swelled with the possibilities still between them.
"My darling," she said.
He sat heavily upon the chaise. A light puff of dust wafted off him and reminded her not only of the distance he had traveled but of the one between them even now, although they were finally together. It made Grace deeply weary.
"Your coat now, sir?" she asked again in as light a tone as she could muster.
"I had best keep it on," he said. "I may be leaving again soon."
Grace's shoulders drooped, and she sensed her heart literally sinking deeper into her chest. Mai Lin must have sensed it, too, for she stepped closer. Grace felt faint and wished she were lying down again, but she remained standing over the Reverend as he placed his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. If she was worn and sorrowful, then he had to be so as well. She felt it her duty to help him return to his usual optimistic state.
"Mai Lin, you may leave us now," Grace said.
Her amah looked at her with anxious eyes. Grace mustered a smile and shooed the old woman off with a pale hand.
"Close the door after you, please."
Mai Lin's expression as she did so could only be called pleading.
After Mai Lin's departure, Grace knelt down with some difficulty before her husband. The baby in her belly kicked as she shifted, but she ignored it for now. She lifted her husband's callused hand and put it upon her cheek. He flinched at her touch, but after a few moments, he settled into it, a horse newly broken. She tossed back her hair like a girl, and still he did not look into her face. She felt silly as she stroked his hand, but it was her right. He was her husband, after all, and while there was no injunction in the marriage vows for a wife to console her husband in low moments, every American woman understood this to be part of the bargain.
"You must be terribly tired," she said. "Shall we lie down together upon my bed?"
He offered a soft grunt of agreement but didn't move.
"It has been so long since we have truly
seen
one another. I miss you, my love. And I want to know where you have been and what you have experienced. Tell me all." Her own bright voice surprised her. It was true, though, that she longed to travel with him, or at least to know more about the strange journeys that took him away.
His distracted expression shifted, and he finally looked upon her. She expected a softened countenance, yet his eyes remained fierce. She was not sure she knew this man who stared at her with blazing ferocity. Where was his tenderness, his good humor, his ease?
"I have seen far too much, my dear, for your innocent ears," he said. "You would never survive out there. I should not have brought you to this land. You are too delicate a creature."
Grace let out a hearty laugh, forced frivolity taking a great effort in that late hour. "Reverend, don't you recall that I came here of my own volition? I obtained my degree in religious education, and it was my decision, not yours, to travel all the way to Shansi Province. I came for the mission, not for you. Although," here her voice rose and a blush appeared on her cheeks, "our first meeting on the green at Oberlin will be etched in my mind forever, and after my arrival here, I became more smitten with you by the day." She patted his hand and waited for his smile, which appeared faintly. "But that you came to feel as I did and we married six months later was a dream come true, even here in this land where dreams rarely survive. No, without question," she said more firmly as she made herself sit with a straight back, "China is not for the faint of heart. But remember, I am the granddaughter of farmers. I am used to rough winters and hot summers, and I know how to work. I am every bit a proper match for this country. As my grandmother used to say, 'Don't you worry about me one iota.' "
She spoke to assuage his concerns and so they could move on to what she truly hoped for— that he might simply hold her in his arms.
He gazed at her and appeared to finally take her in. He ran a rough fingertip along her cheek and said, "I recall when you first arrived how startling our love seemed. I didn't think humans could feel as passionately for one another as for the Lord. And I do recall you are a sturdy gal. But my dear, you must admit that our circumstances have been trying for even the strongest amongst us. We have endured a great loss, and I expect there will be more. That seems to be the way of this world." He looked away toward the dark window, and she feared she might lose him again.
"Let's not dwell upon it, Reverend," she pleaded and reached for his hand. "Please."
Her voice drew him back, and the Reverend looked upon her once more. As he traced her lips with a chapped finger, it took all her concentration not to swoon at his touch. He then leaned forward and placed dry lips upon her brow and kissed it. She felt tears blazing up from the back of her mind.
"I see I have overlooked you in my suffering," he said. "I have sinned most grievously by this omission. Self-absorption is the devil's work. Can you forgive me, my love?"
She nodded but had no words, only the tears that pooled in her eyes. She knew her tears would pain him and make him pull away, so she willed herself not to cry.
"I know the remedy," he said. He sat forward and squeezed her hand. "You shall go with me on the trail. It is high time you saw the outlying hamlets, the villages and the rocky roads. The churches, too, of course, and the good work we have commenced. We will journey there together."
She leaned forward, too, and looked to see if he were joking. With a child due in two months' time and in her weakened state, she was in no condition to travel. Mai Lin would have forbidden it in an instant if she had had the power to do so. But her husband wanted her at his side. That was what mattered.
"If you say so, Reverend," Grace said.
"It will help me greatly to not face the foe alone. Even with able Ahcho at my side, I find it quite lonely out there, especially when a lead goes dry and we are forced to move on without hope. For I am ashamed to admit that I succumb to sin more than I had ever thought possible."
"It isn't your fault, Reverend," she said, gripping his hand. "I recall that my father and grandfather each succumbed to the bottle from time to time. It is to be expected from real men."
"Heavens, no." His brow furrowed as he lifted his gaze. "I was referring to the sin of despair. It is the worst weakness of all, and you will help me to defeat it. I believe I have been abandoned by our Lord but not by you, my dear girl.
You
shall be my savior."
Grace swallowed with some difficulty. She wanted to argue the point, but hearing such heartfelt words, she let her head sink into his lap. She allowed herself to feel actual optimism at sitting so close beside him, until quite abruptly the stench of his traveling coat reminded her of the marketplace, of the poorest of peasants, of the sickening flesh and rotted stumps of limbs. Although she tried to will her mind not to imagine such things, Grace felt herself starting to choke and gag. Her head grew quickly feverish, and she thought she might faint. The dizziness was upon her, and the buzzing vibrations were quickly overtaking her brain.
She coughed into her husband's thigh under the filthy coat. The Reverend stroked her hair and then her shoulders with his large hand. She was grateful for the attention, although the coughing wracked her and made her ribs hurt. Her swollen belly shook, and she wondered if the baby could stand being tossed like a tiny vessel on a stormy sea.
"My dear," the Reverend said as her coughing finally subsided, "this is not like you."
"Oh, it's nothing," Grace said. "A tickle in my throat from the winter air."
"Are you sure? It sounds more serious than that. Have you seen Doc Hemingway?"
She brushed back her hair and smiled up at him. Because of the coughing, she felt certain that her face had more color than usual, and she hoped her husband would take notice. "Now, when shall we leave?" she asked.
A distracted air overtook the Reverend again, and she realized that even mentioning the road carried him away from her. But this time, she would go along. Finally, they would be together.
"Tomorrow," he said and stood. "We haven't a moment to lose."
She watched as he turned and strode from the room. Yes, she thought, not a moment.
Fifteen
T
he following noon, Grace, Mai Lin, the Reverend, and Ahcho, along with several donkey drivers, set out from the compound. The servants had been in a flurry all morning as they prepared for an abrupt departure, but they were most professional and uncomplaining. Grace felt she should model her own behavior on theirs in this instance. Once on the trail, however, it was immediately apparent that she did not have it in her to be as flexible as was needed. She requested frequent stops, which were terribly awkward given the exposed terrain and the fact that she and Mai Lin were the only women in the company of a half-dozen men. Mai Lin had been right: a traveling cart would have been far preferable to a lumpy donkey back, but it was too late now.
In midafternoon, their party paused under a tree by a narrow, rocky stream where only a trickle of water flowed. Grace fell asleep right away, wrapped in a warm blanket on a rug set down for her on the rough earth. She was awakened only a few moments later by the overwhelming sight of the Reverend already atop his donkey again, the fur over his shoulders, the yellow animal eyes staring down at her. No wonder the Chinese did as her husband said: he resembled some mythic god out here on the plains. The light shimmered around him, and she could almost believe as they did. He was more miracle than man.
She clambered back upon her donkey after their altogether too brief rest, and on they rode, heading across the plains in the direction of the western hills. Hunched atop the beast with her arms around her amah, who steered it, Grace insisted that they keep pace with the Reverend. She tried repeatedly to introduce topics she thought might be of interest to him, but for much of the day, he kept his head buried in a book.
Although Grace tried to concentrate on observing him and keeping herself comfortable, she soon noticed a surprising number of people out walking on the dirt roads that crisscrossed the desert plains. She wondered where on earth they were all going. On their backs they carried great bundles of what appeared to be bedding or clothing, with pots and pans dangling down. Weapons or tools of the field sagged in their weary hands. Children shuffled along, not even lifting their eyes when she passed. That was most unusual because she was normally a magnet for the young. But these families appeared too burdened to look up or speak.
"Where are they going?" she asked Mai Lin.
"The fields are no good anymore. They go to Fenchow-fu or other towns to find work."
"But there isn't any work in Fenchow-fu. There are already too many beggars on the streets."
Mai Lin offered a tsking sound.
"They should just stay put," Grace said. "They'd be better off."
"Robbers now cover the countryside. But robbers also hide in
alleys in the city. They don't care where they slit your throat," Mai Lin said with a chuckle.
"How awful!" Grace said. "You must not say things like that Mai Lin. These good families will surely reach their destinations."
Mai Lin shrugged, and they carried on. Grace thought it better not to dwell upon the fates of the poor Chinese. It was terrible, but what could be done? She had first arrived in Shansi during the drought of 1907, when the Reverend had been mightily preoccupied with famine relief. He worked passionately day and night to secure financial support from expatriate Americans and congregations back home to help the starving Chinese. He quickly raised enough to build the roads that brought in the Red Cross and shipments of food from American companies to the villages. In one of their first encounters, he had described to Grace the grateful Chinese children stuffing wads of Wrigley's Juicy Fruit gum into their mouths and how he had frantically instructed them not to swallow. Of course other food was delivered as well, and then, when the rain eventually came, those same newly constructed roads then carried crops from the fields to the marketplace more swiftly than ever. It had all worked out in the end. Except that this famine of the present year seemed every bit as bad and appeared unending.
Nonetheless, Grace had admired the Reverend so during that difficult time. Her passion for him had grown tenfold in her breast. When he had finally looked up from his efforts, she had believed it an actual miracle that he professed to feel the same way about her. She hadn't allowed herself to believe he'd even noticed her in the two months since her arrival. The two were married a fortnight later on a gloriously rainy day in the small mission chapel. Falling raindrops had been far better than the usual confetti or rice tossed onto the shoulders of bride and groom. And while some in the mission had been surprised at the sudden nuptials, such was the swiftness and surety of their love for one another.
Grace had never been happier, although her subsequent explanatory letter home took some careful crafting. Her mother's agitated return telegram had brought scalding tears to Grace's eyes, but after several more exchanges, eventually a heavy box of handsome sterling place settings arrived from the best jewelry store in Cleveland, and the rift with her family was mended. Yet further evidence that everything worked out in the end.
Now she gazed at her husband, who remained absorbed in his book. It worried her that he had grown inward since those earlier, more purposeful days. But she supposed that was what personal tragedy wrought. What was the starvation and death of thousands when your own child was lost to you?