Grace (War Brides Book 4)

by Linda Ford

  “I can try,” she said rather dubiously.

  “Gracie, my wife, it’s about time you grew up. You’re no longer a child being smothered by your sister and father.”

  His words stung. “They didn’t smother me. They only wanted to protect me.”

  “I ask myself over and over what it was they were protecting you from. Someone like me, perhaps, who would see you as perfectly capable adult? One, I might add—” he rubbed noses with her—“who I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He pulled away. “Now, I think Gracie Two is ready to fly again. I’m going to take her for a test run. Want to watch?”

  Grace’s heart clenched at the thought of him going up again. Secretly, she’d hoped he wouldn’t be able to repair the airplane. But day after day he disappeared into the barn, pounding and hammering as he forged ahead with repairs.

  She shuddered. “I don’t think I can bear to watch.” She ran inside and grabbed up a book, forcing her mind to the words on the pages, but when she heard the plane take off, she couldn’t stay there and hurried outside to watch Billy put the craft through her paces. She waited and watched until he landed safely. Only then was she able to fill her lungs without discomfort.

  Billy hurried to her side, smiling. “She’s as good as new. Now I can get back to work.” He pulled her close, not noticing her resistance.

  After lunch the next afternoon, a young boy rode into the yard.

  Billy came out of the barn as Grace stepped from the house.

  The boy skidded to a halt before Grace. “Mr. Deans asked me to bring you a message, Ma’am. He says to tell you Mrs. Deans is asking for you.”

  Grace clenched her hands together.

  “Thank you, Son.” Billy stepped to Grace’s side.

  The boy waved and rode away.

  Grace clutched Billy’s arm. “It must be time for the baby.”

  “You best go see. I’ll bring the car to the step.”

  Grace took a moment to grab her handbag and a kerchief to throw over her hair. Billy had the car waiting when she stepped outside.

  “You don’t suppose she’s having trouble do you?”

  He shook his head. “Probably she only wants someone to stay with her while Tom goes for the doctor.”

  “Of course. That’s probably it.”

  She stepped toward the car, then turned back to Billy. “If there’s anything wrong, I don’t know anything about helping a baby be born.”

  He patted her hand. “You go see what she wants. You’ll be just fine.”

  She nodded as she drove away. Life was always so easy for Billy. If only she could have half the self-assurance he did.

  She jerked to a stop in front of the Deans’ house.

  Tom met her at the door. “I’m glad you could come. She’s in labor.” He rubbed his hair.

  Grace gave him a quick glance. He looked like he was the one in labor, his eyes red rimmed, his hair tossed up, his skin pale.

  “She’s through there.” He pointed to the bedroom. “Now you’re here, I’m going for the doc. I think it’s time.”

  “Time. You mean the baby is almost here?”

  “It’s been going on long enough.”

  “How long?”

  “She’s been laboring hard since night before last.”

  “Oh my.” Grace rushed through the door. She might not know anything about babies, but that seemed an awfully long time. “Is she alright?” But one glance at Nellie told her the poor woman was close to exhaustion, her face flushed from exertion, her eyes hollow, her hair matted with sweat.

  “You go get Doc straightaway,” she called over her shoulder, then bent close to Nellie. “It’s me, Nellie. How are you doing?”

  Nellie’s eyelids fluttered open. “You’re here. Grace, pray for me. The baby isn’t coming right.”

  Grace drew back. Pray? Apart from church, she seldom prayed. She wasn’t even sure she knew how. But she couldn’t deny Nellie’s desperate plea. “Of course, I’ll pray,” she agreed.

  “Pray out loud so I can hear you. I don’t seem to have the strength to do it myself.”

  Grace could barely hear Nellie’s whispered words. How could she deny Nellie’s request? “God, help us.” The words, the best she could come up with, sounded empty, plain. But a spasm gripped Nellie, and there wasn’t time to think of any longer.

  The pain seemed to go on and on. Just when Grace wondered if Nellie could take any more, it eased though she could see Nellie was not comfortable.

  “Water,” Nellie mumbled.

  Grace held the glass to her friend’s mouth so she could drink. When Nellie fell back against the pillows, Grace found a cloth and wiped her face. Before she was done, another pain wrenched Nellie into a half-sitting position. She bit her lip so hard it bled. A long, thin scream edged through Nellie’s clenched teeth. Again, Grace feared the pain would be more than Nellie could endure. Again, it subsided only to grip her again. And again.

  Afternoon had given way to evening. The room grew shadowed, and Grace lit a lamp, wondering when Tom would return. He’d been gone far too long. She heard a noise and looked up from holding Nellie, trying to ease her through another pain, to see Tom at the door, a look of fear on his face.

  She signaled him that they’d talk in the other room and hurried out to hear what he had to say.

  “The doc’s away out of town. I couldn’t find him.” His voice crackled with tension.

  “What are we going to do? I don’t know how much more she can take.”

  As if to prove her point, Nellie screamed, a sound that went on and on, tearing through Grace’s brain.

  Tom shuddered. “I don’t know.”

  A sudden thought came to Grace. “Go get Willow Welty. She’ll know what to do. Hurry.”

  Tom raced from the room before Grace finished speaking.

  Taking a deep breath, Grace returned to Nellie’s side. If only she knew how to help her friend. That last pain seemed to have taken the final remnant of Nellie’s strength, and she lay limp, barely able to moan as another pain assailed her body.

  Grace shook her head. How much more could Nellie and the baby endure?

  She was so grateful to hear Tom return and the sound of Willow’s voice. She leapt up and hurried to greet them, grabbing Willow’s arm and half dragging the woman to the bedroom. “Hurry, she’s so weak.”

  Willow stepped to Nellie’s side, probed at Nellie’s stomach, then straightened.

  “Grace, go boil some water. I want to give her something to drink.”

  Grace hurried to do as told.

  When she returned, Willow had turned Nellie to one side and was massaging Nellie’s stomach.

  Willow saw Grace with hot water. “Good, take that packet and pour it in a cup. Fill it with the water.”

  Grace obeyed.

  “Help me sit her up.”

  Together, they dragged Nellie up, and Willow held the cup to her lips. “Have some of this, Dearie. It will get ya right.”

  Weakly, Nellie downed the drink.

  “Now help me,” Willow murmured to Grace.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Just do as I say.”

  And Grace did. She moved Nellie, held her while Willow worked over her, ran for more rags when a gush of blood flooded the bed. Her limbs seemed to function apart from her mind.

  “Now give one more push,” Willow told Nellie. “Come on, girl, one more.”

  Nellie screamed once and collapsed. Willow scooped up a baby. “Come on, little one. Breathe.” She wiped the mouth and nose, and rubbed the little chest gently.

  Grace stared at the tiny, motionless body, willing the infant to live.

  The baby squirmed and gave a faint meowing sound.

  “That’s it. Try harder.” Willow tweaked the soles of the tiny feet. The infant jerked back and wailed. “Thank God. Thank God,” Willow muttered. “This little gal has a fighting spirit. She’ll go far, mark my words.”

  She thrust the baby
into Grace’s arms.

  Grace gulped at how slippery the newborn was. Willow handed her a clean rag. “Hold the baby while I take care of the rest.”

  Grace barely noticed as Willow cut the cord; her attention focused on the newborn in her hands. So tiny. So complete. So loud.

  Willow wrapped a cloth around the baby. “Hold her close while I tend to the mother.”

  Half an hour later, Willow straightened. “She’ll be fine now.”

  Then she showed Grace how to wash the baby.

  It was so wonderful and new.

  On her way home, despite the warm morning sun, Grace started to shake. By the time she reached the house, she could barely drive.

  Billy rushed out to greet her. “Is everything alright?”

  Her teeth chattered so she couldn’t answer. Billy sprang to her side. “Is Nellie… ?”

  Grace nodded. “Fine.”

  “The baby?”

  “Fine.” She gulped again.

  “Then what on earth is the matter? You look like someone died, at the very least.”

  She burst into tears, sobs shuddering her entire body.

  Billy lifted her from the car and held her in his arms, shepherding her toward the house, where he led her to the sofa and pulled her down beside him, enclosing her in his arms.

  She leaned against him, letting her helplessness consume her.

  “Gracie, what’s happened? What’s the matter?”

  She rolled her head back and forth. “They almost died,” she managed to wail. “I didn’t know what to do.” Suddenly it poured out. “The baby wouldn’t come. And Doc was away. I didn’t know what to do. All I could think was to send for Willow. At least she knew what to do.” She shuddered. “Otherwise I’m sure both Nellie and the baby would have died.” A sob choked her words. “And it would have been my fault. Just like when my baby died. And my mother.” She knew before she’d finished speaking that her words made no sense, yet they were the head and tail of the great fear and guilt she experienced at every new challenge.

  Billy stiffened. “Wait a minute. Didn’t you tell me it was your idea to get Willow?”

  She nodded against his shoulder, her tears dried by the hollowness of her heart.

  “That was pretty smart. Seems to me you maybe saved both their lives.” He held her tightly. “Grace, as long as you insist on assigning blame about our baby, you condemn me as much as yourself. You have to accept it was an accident. No one was to blame.”

  Again she nodded. She knew that. In her head. It was harder to convince her heart. She felt Billy’s deep sigh and knew he wasn’t going to let the rest of it go. She had no one to blame but herself. She should have bitten her tongue before she uttered the words.

  “Now, what’s this about your mother?”

  He waited, but she remained silent.

  “I thought she died when you were several months old.”

  She managed a nod.

  He turned and grasped her by both shoulders, giving her a little shake. “Then what’s this nonsense about being to blame?”

  At first she refused to meet his eyes, then as he waited, she took a deep breath. “Irene told me Mother never got over having me. She said Mother should not have had me.” She stared into Billy’s eyes, aching to find understanding there, perhaps even absolution.

  “Ah, Gracie, what a burden you carry.” He pulled her to his chest, cradling her tenderly. “I don’t know why Irene would say such a thing, but how can you blame yourself? It was a choice you had nothing to do with.”

  “I know that. I’ve told myself over and over. But it didn’t help. It doesn’t change the way I feel in here.” She pressed a balled-up fist to her chest. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I can’t help it. I still feel like I did something very wrong. Somehow it’s my fault my mother died.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I can never make up for it.”

  He stroked her hair, pressing her head closer. “So nothing you do is ever good enough.”

  She stiffened. How had he read her inmost thoughts?

  “Grace, sooner or later, you are going to have to believe in yourself.”

  She sat up and faced him. His eyes so tender and encouraging almost made her forget the doubts lurking in the darkness of her soul. Almost. For a moment. Then reality stamped its foot. She couldn’t forget how inept she was when Nellie needed her; how her own foolishness had resulted in the loss of her baby; how she had never known her mother because Mother never got over Grace’s birth.

  Her shoulders sagged. “You see me the way you want me to be. I have to live with what I really am.”

  “I think I see you clearly. It is you who have your vision clouded by whispers and doubts that don’t even make sense.”

  “Perhaps.” She was too tired to argue. She’d been up all night with Nellie. All she wanted now was to go to bed. “I’ll make some breakfast.”

  “I already ate.” He pulled her to her feet and led her toward the bedroom. “You look all in. Go to sleep. Things will look better when you’re rested.” He waited for her to pull off her clothing, soiled with her night’s labors and smelling of sweat—hers and Nellie’s together. She sank into the bed and sighed.

  Billy pulled the covers around her shoulders, kissed her brow, and tiptoed from the room.

  That evening over supper, Grace caught Billy’s watchful gaze upon her more than once.

  “Nellie had a baby girl. Willow made me hold her. It’s the first time I held a baby.” She smiled. “I had no idea they were so small.”

  She bustled back and forth between the stove and the table. “Once Tom knew Nellie was fine, he couldn’t take his eyes off the baby. He grinned so wide it must have hurt.”

  “Grace,” Billy began.

  She knew he wanted to say more about their conversation earlier in the day, but she’d tucked the whole affair back into its hidden chamber. It’s not hidden any longer, a persistent voice warned. But Grace ignored the inner arguments, even as she forestalled Billy’s questions.

  “Billy, have you ever held a baby?”

  He shook his head. “Not a little one.”

  She laughed, ignoring its mocking echo. “We’d make quite a pair, wouldn’t we? Neither of us knows anything about babies.”

  “Nobody’s born knowing. What you don’t know—”

  “You can learn. I know. I know.” She set the bowl of boiled potatoes at his elbow and sat down across from him.

  He gave her a steady look. “You can’t run forever, Grace.”

  She blinked. “Who’s running? Pass the butter, please.”

  “Fine.” But his stern expression warned her he wouldn’t be forgetting it.

  A few days later, Old Len drove into the yard. “Got a message for Mr. Marshall.”

  “What is it?” Billy came from the barn, wiping his hands on a rag.

  Old Len handed a folded piece of paper to Billy.

  Billy stuffed the oily rag into his back pocket and opened the note.

  “Mr. Tunney said it was from that oil man you give a ride to awhile back.” Old Len leaned forward, curiosity written in every wrinkle.

  “Yes, it is. He wants me to fly him again.” Billy looked up from the piece of paper. “Thank you, Len.”

  “You want to be sending a reply?”

  “I’ll be going to town to use the phone myself.”

  “Oh.” He sat back in disappointment. “I’ll be heading back then.”

  Billy waved, waiting for Len to turn onto the main road before walking over to Grace. “Mr. Boushee wants to hire me.”

  Grace blinked. “What does he want you to do?”

  Billy stuffed the note in his pocket. “He wants to go up north to Norman Wells.”

  Grace studied her husband’s face, seeing the way he shuffled his feet and shifted his gaze past her left ear. “So why the nervousness?”

  Billy grinned. “Can’t fool you for a minute.” He shrugged. “Norman Wells is way up north. We’d have to take the trip in ste
ps. Then I’d have to stay with him until he’s ready to come back.”

  “How far north?”

  “Up the Mackenzie River in the Northwest Territories. A long ways.”

  Grace’s mind raced, trying to assess what exactly Billy’s news meant. “How long would you be gone?”

  “A week, maybe two.”

  Her mouth fell open. She stared. He might as well have said he was going to the North Pole. On second thought, maybe he was.

  “What about me?”

  It was his turn to look startled. “What do you mean?”

  “What am I supposed to do for while you’re gone?”

  He shrugged. “Whatever you like. Read. Rest. Go see Nellie and the new baby.”

  She mentally shuddered. Although she longed to see her friend and the new baby, something inside cringed at the thought of facing Nellie and seeing the accusation in her gaze.

  “You could even go see Irene if you wanted. Take the train.”

  She shook her head. “Irene doesn’t have room for me. Besides, it’s too far.”

  Billy laughed. “You came across the ocean. You came three thousand miles across Canada, but the idea of a three-hundred-mile trip to see your sister makes you tuck in your tail and hide.”

  Grace smiled. “I’ll go another time.” It wasn’t the distance that hindered her; it was knowing she’d have to face again the guilt she had discovered lurking in her heart.

  Billy slapped his thigh. “I have to go the store and call Red.”

  “When will you leave?”

  “Tomorrow morning, I guess. The sooner we’re on the way, the better Red will like it.” He headed for the car. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  An hour passed before Grace heard the car putt into the yard—an hour in which she had gone over every possible crisis she could encounter while he was away, an hour in which to imagine all sorts of accidents and disasters for Billy. The north! Where men froze to death; where bears lurked about, waiting for a chance for a free lunch. She shuddered. Only by gritting her teeth would she be able to let him go without getting hysterical.

  He bounced into the house. “It’s all set.” He rubbed his hands together. “Man, this is the chance I’ve been waiting for. A big job, an important customer. This could put our business on its feet for good.” He rubbed his palms some more, the sound grating over Grace’s nerves. “I’ve always wanted to go up north. I’ve heard so much about it.”