River of Dust A Novel

Fourteen

O ne mild and moonless evening, as Grace sat by the closed window, she thought she heard bells— high, tinkling bells of the sort camel drivers tied to their beasts to keep them from becoming lost in dust storms. She cocked her head and listened and waited for the sounds of voices. She felt certain she would recognize her children because they would be brought home to her by a chorus of angels, or, given the bells, perhaps camels, or both.

Instead, it was her husband who returned through the open gate of the compound a little after midnight. He wore bells strung about his neck as if he were a beast of burden. She pressed her fingertips against the chilly glass. No dust swirled in the courtyard, and first he was not there and then he was. He wore his long traveling coat like a cowboy from the American West and over it the dead animal fur that he seemed to like. The worst of winter was upon them with bright, chilly days. At night, a sparkling frost covered the ground, and the moist air cut to the bone. She was glad he had the warmth of the hide, although he appeared weighed down by its heft. From her secondstory window, she noticed that he walked with bowed head and down cast eyes. Two donkeys trailed behind him, and after that came Ahcho, bent lower still by their journeys.

Another trip, another return, and still no sign of the boy. In his ongoing search, Grace's admirable husband had become a haunted apparition. Had she not heard the actual tinkle of bells, the footfalls of their animals, the clapping of the pouches and bags attached to the Reverend's belt, she might have believed he was made only of sorrow and air. In the silver moonlight, he appeared to be a ghost man indeed.

"Master returns with a heavy heart," Mai Lin said.

Grace startled, not having noticed that her amah had risen from the cot in the corner. "It is he, though, isn't it?" she asked. "You see him, too?"

Mai Lin put her hand on Grace's thin shoulder and said, "Yes, he is home. Mistress can sleep now."

Grace tipped her face into the oil lamp. "Do I look all right? Pleasant enough, I mean?"

Mai Lin was too good to her, Grace thought. Her old amah's eyes did not let on about the dark shadows that Grace knew puffed under her eyes. Nor did Mai Lin mention how Grace's light brown hair had lost its sheen, or that her neck had become as thin as a chicken's and the corners of her mouth shot downward too much of the time. At seven months pregnant, her clothing bound her uncomfortably, and while her cheeks were sallow and drawn, her whole being felt bulky and unappealing. But Mai Lin chose not to dwell on these disagreeable truths.

Instead, she said, "Mistress most beautiful."

"Luckily, beauty is within. The Reverend knows that. He will not be taken in by surface appearances. His mind is much on the soul." Grace stood and held Mai Lin's arm to steady herself.

"You need rest."

"I am perfectly all right. You run along now. Sometimes a wife must see her husband alone."

Mai Lin looked sternly at her mistress.

"It was not long ago that we were newlyweds," Grace said. Then, in a smaller voice, she asked, "Perhaps you have something to help us?"

Mai Lin made a clucking sound with her tongue, but Grace felt her heart quicken as she watched her amah reach into one of the many pouches that she wore. Mai Lin brought out a handful of fine powder which she sprinkled over Grace's bed. Then she touched her mistress's forehead with a finger that bore the same potion and touched her large belly with it to protect the child inside, too. Grace studied each of these magical gestures, and when Mai Lin was done, she reached for the old woman's hand and kissed the bony back.

"Thank you. You are too good to me."

Grace then heard the Reverend's heavy footfalls rising up the stairs. She was surprised that he had entered the house so quickly and had not stopped in his library on the first floor. He had taken to sleeping on a cot in there, but on this night, he must have been mad for sleep in a true bed. Still, she hoped he would pay her a visit on his way to his bedroom at the end of the hall and not wait to see her until the morning.

"Mai Lin, open my door," she said.

Mai Lin did as she was told just as the Reverend was passing.

He looked up and saw Mai Lin. "What in the devil?" he said. "Is the whole house awake at this hour?"

Grace slipped forward and hoped he would notice the way the lamplight danced on the folds of her silk robe. Surprisingly, he had on his coat and that awful animal still over his back. She could not understand how Ahcho had allowed her husband to march into the front hall and rise to the living quarters with desert dust flying off him.

"Reverend," she asked, "would you like to take off your coat?"

He stared down at his traveling attire as if noticing it for the first time. His hand touched one of the ropes of leather around his neck, and a bell sounded. "Yes," he said, "I believe I would."

"Mai Lin, don't keep the Reverend waiting."

Mai Lin shuffled forward and tried to help with the animal hide, but it was too much for her elderly arms and short stature. He yanked it off himself and tossed it onto Grace's chaise. The lace antimacassars fluttered and were instantly covered in a fine layer of dust that flew out from the fur.

"Heavens," Grace said, "that creature has seen better days."

The Reverend did not smile. He bowed his head and allowed Mai Lin to remove several leather ropes from around his neck. She started to undo the red sash that crossed his chest, but he held on to the pouch with the twin yellow dragons and would not let her. Then Mai Lin reached up to unbutton his long coat, but he brushed her aside again.

"That's enough," he said. "Leave me be."

Grace was alarmed by his gruff tone. Usually, he was the model of civility with the servants, always attempting to teach by example. Do unto others, his tone customarily seemed to suggest. Now he sounded as coarse and uncaring as the lowliest coolie.

"Reverend, perhaps I can help you remove your overcoat?" Grace asked.

He peered down at her through glasses covered in dust.

"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.