River of Dust A Novel

Nine

W ould you care for a cup of tea?" Mildred Martin inquired, her eyebrows raised. The Martins' number-one boy poured, and Grace smiled when he held up a rare lump of sugar with silver tongs. Mildred must have saved her small store of the precious sweet for special occasions, which gave Grace a shred of optimism about this visit. She so wanted them to be friends again.

As Grace accepted the cup and saucer and placed them on the table, she hoped that her trembling hand was not too noticeable. In the four years since she had arrived in Fenchow-fu, Mildred, though only slightly older, had watched over her with a mother's keen eye. Indeed, Mildred was watching her now. There would be no hiding Grace's delicate condition.

"You do not look well," Mildred began and patted Grace's thin wrist. "But, of course, you have been through so much."

The two ladies looked down at their laps and slowly shook their heads.

"It must lead you to prayer more than ever," Mildred said.

Grace agreed, although oddly, she did not pray often anymore. She



was far too occupied with keeping track of her dreams and all that business out the window. Her vigilance required a great deal of her.

"The baby will help you enormously," Mildred said, now giving Grace's hand a firm squeeze as a signal for Grace to let go, which she did reluctantly.

"My little Daisy has made my earlier loss all but disappear from my mind. Of course my earlier one never saw the light of day, unlike your dear little boy, who made it all the way to three years of age."

Grace wished her friend would refrain from mentioning her son, especially not in the past tense as if he had died, which Grace was convinced he had not. She tried to recall if she had ever told Mildred about the two she had lost to miscarriage as well. Those were terrible, but nothing compared to the open wound left by her stolen boy.

"I do hope for that, Mildred. You are most blessed with precious Daisy."

Hearing her name, the little girl rose from where she played with blocks on the Chinese carpet. She toddled over, placed a block in her mother's lap, looked up, and spat out the word "block" as if it were the most thrilling thing on earth. Grace could not help letting out a giggle. The child was just so darling. But the little girl looked up at Grace and frowned. She took a handful of her mother's fine skirt and wrinkled it in her chubby fingers.

"I believe I have upset her," Grace said.

"Nonsense," Mildred said. "Daisy, say hello to Mrs. Watson."

Daisy continued to frown at Grace as she pawed at her mother's lap. Mildred lifted her daughter and set her upon her knee. Daisy twisted her body away so as not to look at Grace.

"I won't bother you, darling girl," Grace said. She longed to reach across and touch that fine blond hair, so like her own Wesley's that it pained her heart. "But did you know that very soon you will have a new playmate?"

Daisy glanced back at Grace with a skeptical look.

"I have a baby coming soon, and he or she will be your new friend."

This seemed to finally set Daisy at ease. The girl pushed off from her mother's arms, clambered back down onto the rug, and waddled to her blocks. Grace and Mildred took up their cups and drank as Daisy commenced building a tower.

"Your Reverend," Mildred asked, "he is excited about the child?"

"Oh, yes," Grace replied with enthusiasm.

"And you believe he intends to be around more often once the baby arrives?" Mildred's voice sounded rather pinched, Grace thought.

"I assume so. We have not discussed it."

"Really? You are entering your sixth month of pregnancy, and you have not discussed it?" Mildred's eyebrows rose again. "I would think that would be a most important topic at this time." Then she leaned closer and asked, "Do you actually know where he goes when he leaves for days and weeks at a time?"

Grace set down her cup and sat up straighter in her chair, "Why, to the outlying churches, of course."

Mildred let out a stifled laugh that cut Grace to the quick.

"My dear," Mildred said, "that man is gone more often than he is here. Do you think he has any concept of the frenzy he has created with all these new supposed converts whom my husband has been left to deal with? All I am saying is that it is not always best for the mission to have your Reverend gone. And I suspect it is not terribly good for you, either, especially in your condition."

Grace shifted in her seat and wondered if she should just rise and exit at that very moment. No one should be permitted to speak of the Reverend in such disdainful and critical tones. He was head of the mission and respected far and wide. He had built the hospital in which Mildred's child had been born, and the schools where the Chinese children were taught. But, instead of leaving in protest, Grace reached up her sleeve and brought out her linen handkerchief. As she dabbed at her eyes, she glanced at Mildred and saw genuine concern on the other woman's face. Grace's hand that held the kerchief fell heavily to her lap.

"No, it is not so good for me, either," she admitted.

"My dear Grace, after all you have been through." Mildred offered a crisp rub to Grace's knee. "I am sorry to be so forward, but perhaps you can tell me: what is the precise meaning of all those belts and whatnots he has hanging about his person?" Mildred let out a thin stream of air. "What I am getting at is that I believe your Reverend has gone native on you, Mrs. Watson. Whatever are you going to do about it?"

Grace pushed her handkerchief up her sleeve again, although she feared that if she was unable to control herself, she would need it in barely a moment when she would finally burst into tears.

Luckily, Mildred continued, "The Reverend Martin and I have discussed it."

"Discussed what?" Grace asked.

"Your situation and your Reverend's changed— well, there is no other word for it— his changed being."

Grace nodded, although her mind raced with both the truth of this observation and the utter ignorance of it. Had the Martins' first born son been stolen from them, then they, too, would have found their being changed.

"When your baby comes," Mildred continued, "we wish to invite you to live here with us. No, hear me out. It is quite customary for a new mother to be cared for by a loving auntie or friend. No one will think badly of you. We cannot have you over there across the courtyard without a husband and no one but the natives to tend to you and your baby. That is not Christian of us, or of you."

Grace felt the anticipated tears rise up. She did not know what to say, so she reached out a shaking hand and held on to Mildred's own firm one. "You are most kind and good," Grace finally spluttered. "Truly you are."

Mildred smiled tightly and nodded in agreement.

"I am sure the Reverend will understand?" Grace said, half telling and half asking.

"Not to worry. I will have my Reverend Martin speak to him. This new child of yours needs to be protected at all costs. Frankly, knowing the likes of those your husband has come to associate with recently, I am not entirely confident that you should stay in your home even if he were there to be with you. I am sorry to be so blunt. But you will feel much better off here, allowing us to care for you. You may use my number-one amah and leave yours behind. Daisy is old enough to manage without her all the time."

Grace shot a startled look at Mildred, who glanced away quickly and took up her cup again.

"I do not know if I can manage that," Grace said softly. "Mai Lin relies on our employ."

"I should say it is you, rather, who relies perhaps too much upon her," Mildred said, her words slow and careful. "But there is no need for us to quibble about the details. Let's just say it is decided."

Mildred stood, and before Grace knew it, she was being helped up from her seat and escorted out of the Martins' parlor and toward the front door.

"I assume Doc Hemingway will deliver the child?" Mildred asked.

Grace nodded but did not answer.

"He did such a fine job with my Daisy. I would not possibly trust any method other than Western practices for something so important as bringing a baby into the world. Beware of the voodoo rituals of the natives, am I right, my dear?"

Grace nodded again.

"You take care of yourself, and as I said, Reverend Martin will speak with Reverend Watson. It will all be arranged."

Mildred helped Grace out onto the Martins' porch, where she promptly left her. Grace glanced around the desolate courtyard and let out an audible sigh when she finally spotted Mai Lin. The old woman was crouched under a forlorn tree, spitting betel quid into the dust.