River of Dust A Novel

Twenty

G race's children came to her in a swirl of dust and sunlight. Motes of light floated behind her closed eyelids, and when she opened them the sun danced low over the sill before her, bringing with it the children. She thought she heard them crying. She dozed and dreamed and woke again and heard them crying again, this time from quite close. She squinted down at the soft bundle beside her. Rose. Her Rose. Grace's heart welled up, but her arms were too tired to lift the baby to her breast.

"Mai Lin," she whispered.

The old woman was there, just where she was needed. Grace had never known anyone so reliable. Something cool wetted her lips, and another cool cloth covered her brow. The heat that flamed up at the touch of Mai Lin's fingers startled Grace. She realized she must be terribly ill. That wouldn't do. She pushed herself up in her bed and said, "I shall feed my daughter now."

"Rose Baby drinks goat milk and tea I combine for her. Reverend brought it to your daughter three days ago."

"I've been sleeping all that time?"

"Off and on," Mai Lin said as she withdrew the cloth from Grace's forehead and replaced it with another one.

"But I want to nurse her, Mai Lin. I must."

"If Mistress insists, but you must eat, too."

Mai Lin lifted the baby, pulled back Grace's gown, and helped put the child's mouth to her mother's nipple. The baby rooted and mewed. Grace tipped back her head against the pillow and let out a surprising laugh. The pull of the infant's mouth on her tender skin sent a shooting pain through her, but she didn't mind. Her daughter was alive. And she was alive.

Mai Lin spooned tea into Grace's mouth and then a mash of beans and something else she didn't recognize. She no longer cared for food except that she knew she must eat it to keep up her strength for the sake of the baby. After another sip, she felt woozy again and wanted to sleep but made herself swallow more.

The baby pulled back her tiny head covered in thin, pale hair and let out a high-pitched howl. Grace fumbled with her breast and offered it again, but the infant's body stiffened as she cried, her face turning scarlet.

"What have I done wrong?" Grace asked. "Why won't she take it?"

"Mother's milk is not enough for her," Mai Lin said. "You hold Rose Baby in your arms. That is better."

Mai Lin covered Grace's chest and spooned her another mouthful. She then lifted Rose into her mistress's arms and showed her how to feed her daughter from a strange-looking contraption that resembled an urn with a hard spout. As unappealing as the setup seemed, Rose drank the milky liquid.

"Have we nothing with a softer teat?" Grace asked. "The poor girl has to suck on hard ceramic. This is terrible. I can't even feed my own child properly."

Grace began to weep so suddenly, she shocked herself. As she cried, her chest grew tighter and she began to cough. She had grown accustomed to the endless paroxysms, but now she could hardly bear the pain they caused to her tender female parts and to her aching ribs. Her entire body was wracked by the coughing, and she realized she hadn't recovered much at all from the birth. She remembered that entire episode only vaguely, as if it were a story of great adversity that had happened to someone else. That is, until she felt the pain again when the coughing cut through her. Then she understood it was she who had endured almost too much to bear.

When the coughing finally subsided, Grace said to Mai Lin, "I almost took my leave of this world after Rose was born, didn't I?"

Mai Lin nodded.

"I remember it now," Grace said. Her dreams and memories of the past weeks flitted past, and she searched them for what had actually happened. It was a haze, but one sensation persisted throughout. "I felt certain it was my time to leave."

Mai Lin stood over her with a worried expression. "Mistress was in great pain after the baby came, greater even than in birth labor. Something got caught inside. Your body needed to get rid of it and couldn't stop bleeding until you did. But, you are much better now. You will be well again soon."

Grace looked beyond her amah and out the window into the shadowed courtyard below. Chinese children stood in straight lines before their classroom doors as the ministers and ladies of the mission drifted about in their dark robes.

Grace let the baby bottle sag in her hand. "But truly, I was ready to leave this life," she repeated, more to herself than her amah. "I wanted to join my other children, the ones out there."

Mai Lin lifted Rose away from her mother and placed her on her shoulder. Grace did not object. The old woman patted the infant's back and said, "But you would have left this very real small one behind. That would not do. She needs you."

Grace did not answer but looked out the window again, this time beyond the courtyard to the flat plains streaked by the red fingers of sunset. She could tell she was making her maid uneasy with such talk, but it was true. She had wanted to go. Her time had come. But her daughter was here, and Mai Lin was right to say that Grace must now stay. For Rose's sake, she must hold on a little while longer. She lifted her frail arms, and Mai Lin placed Rose back into them. The baby leaned against her chest, and Grace felt a weight upon her heart. Mai Lin looked down at her with those same worried eyes, and Grace hated to pain her old amah so.

She attempted to lighten her voice as she asked, "Wherever did the Reverend find the precious milk for our girl?"

"He wouldn't say. But Mistress knows he is a most resourceful man, yes?" Mai Lin shifted her heavy skirts and sat on the edge of the bed. She appeared to almost be smiling. Clearly her amah was trying to rescue Grace from the dark cul-de-sac of feeling that she had wandered down.

Mai Lin continued, "He performs many miracles. Everyone knows this."

"Tell me, what do they say about him these days?" Grace asked.

"This morning," Mai Lin began, "Mrs. Martin's number-one boy told everyone the story of the two bullets. The latest version is that the Reverend caught the bullets in his giant hands."

"Oh, my!" Grace said. "What else?"

"Elephants tried to stampede a crowd, but the Reverend stopped them with a clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning that he threw down himself."

Grace giggled. "I believe it's true."

"Some even say he charmed the snakes to sleep for one hundred years. And others say he turned dead crops into most satisfying grains."

Grace lifted her sleepy daughter up before her and rubbed their noses softly together. "Your father is a great man, little one," she whispered. "Never forget it."

Mai Lin chuckled and said, "I don't believe anyone will ever forget the great Ghost Man who once lived here."

Grace glanced at her. "What do you mean they won't ever forget him, Mai Lin? He is still with us and well?"

"He is well," Mai Lin said as she stood abruptly and tucked in the covers at the foot of the bed.

"And he is with us? He no longer travels the way he once did?" Grace asked.

Mai Lin stopped fussing and stepped toward the window.

"Tell me," Grace cleared her throat, "where is my husband now?"

Mai Lin bowed her head. "He brought us the milk, and then he went away again."

Grace let out a sharp sigh. She looked beyond the wall that surrounded the mission compound. The yellow dust of the desert reflected the late-afternoon light. All that golden brightness hid the roughness of the roads and the dryness of the lone river. It was a terrible terrain, inhospitable and cruel. And yet her husband was out there somewhere in the vast expanse of desolate land once again. Grace, who normally studied the horizon for hours, couldn't bear to look at it for another moment. She shut her eyes and tried to feel the beating of her baby's heart against her own. It was the one solid thing she knew anymore.