Grace (War Brides Book 4)

by Linda Ford

  He gave her a quizzical look. “And whose expectations do you think you have to live up to at home? Certainly not mine. I think you do a fine job.”

  She shrugged. “It seems I should be able to do things better than I do.”

  “Grace, sometimes you are so blind. You do things perfectly well.” He fell silent again as he cleaned his plate. “By the way, speaking of putting your mind to something, don’t you think it’s about time you came up with me in Gracie Two? I could take you first thing tomorrow morning.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m content to keep my feet on the ground. You can be the flier in the family.”

  He grabbed her about the shoulders and pulled her down on top of him. “Sometimes I think you don’t trust me.”

  She rubbed noses with him. “You, I trust. But that bucket of bolts you fly—”

  “Bucket of bolts!” He pushed her back. “After all the time I pour into Gracie Two, keeping her in top notch condition, you dare call her a bucket of bolts?” He shook his head. “You’ll pay for that.” He threw her on her back and pinned her arms at her side before he plucked a feathery head of grass and tickled her face.

  “Billy,” she squealed, squirming in a vain attempt to escape his grasp. “Stop.” She giggled, turning her head from side to side, trying to avoid him.

  “Not until you say you’re sorry.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  He released her, and she squirmed out of reach. “I’m sorry your airplane is a bucket of bolts.” She was running before he got to his feet. She made it fifty yards before he caught her and tackled her to the ground.

  “This time, no mercy,” he vowed. She kissed him, muffling his threats. When he slackened his hold on her arms, she started to giggle.

  “What’s so funny?” he muttered against her lips.

  “I think I’ve discovered the best defense against tickling.”

  “Feel free to use it any time you like.” He silenced her with another kiss.

  Later, she lay in the crook of his arms, staring into the starlit sky. “I wish it could always be like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “The two of us on our own with no responsibilities.”

  He jerked up on his elbow. “No responsibilities? Girl, you haven’t been paying attention. There’s both machines to keep running. Camp to set up every day. Meals to cook. Washing up, laundry. Everything there is at home as well as the customers to take care of. And you, I might add, are a real asset in lining up the schedule.”

  “It’s not the same. Out here it’s like pretend. No one expects things to be perfect, so it doesn’t matter.”

  He flung himself over on his back. “Grace, my dear, you have a real problem with what you think people expect from you. How many times do I have to tell you no one expects you to be perfect? I’m quite content with you the way you are except for this haunting idea that someone is waiting to shoot you down.” He turned to watch her. “I haven’t a clue who you think that person would be. You know it’s not me. It’s certainly not Nellie. She’s been nothing but supportive. Who does that leave? Only you.” He paused, letting her digest his words. His voice softer, he continued. “I know your father and Irene treated you like you were a fragile bit of china, but I don’t see that as reason for this fear of yours. What is it that’s plaguing you, Gracie?”

  She rolled her head side to side, staring miserably into the darkness. “I don’t know. I only know it seems I can never be quite good enough.” She waved away his protest. “I know what you say, but it doesn’t still the accusations in my own mind.”

  Billy made a sound of exasperation. “Someday you are going to have to learn to trust and believe me.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “But maybe it’s more than that.” She spoke the words so low she wondered if he heard.

  7

  After a minute, Billy asked very quietly, “And what would that be? Is there something you haven’t told me?”

  “Oh no, nothing that should upset you. It’s only…” How could she put into words what was nothing more than vague restless uncertainties? “I don’t know. Maybe I’m being childish. But sometimes…” Her words trailed off.

  “Sometimes what?” Billy’s voice was low and insistent.

  She threw her hands up. “Sometimes I feel like there’s a vast emptiness inside me. And I don’t know how to fill it.” There she’d said it, but the words sounded hollow and silly in her ears.

  Billy remained silent so long, she thought he had decided to ignore her, until he said in a low, deep voice, “Sometimes I feel empty too. But I found it goes away if I go do something I enjoy.”

  She stared into the darkness. Doing things only made her feel worse. Sure she would ignore the feeling, but the only time she really felt better was in church. “Remember when Reverend Albright talked about being friends with God?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Maybe that’s what I need.”

  Again, her words met a long silence. Then Billy sighed. “If it works for you, then go for it.”

  “But that’s it, don’t you see? I don’t know if it would work for me, and besides, I don’t even know what ‘it’ is.”

  “Let me see if I can remember what he said. I know he talked about how God made a way for us to be right with Him.”

  “Yes, yes. Salvation through faith in Jesus. I know that. But there’s more. I know there is. Nellie talks like there is.” She rose on her elbow and pressed her palm to Billy’s chest as if trying to force the answers she needed from him. “But what is that something more?”

  He covered her hands with his. “Let me think. Hmm. Didn’t the reverend say something about forgiveness being a part of it? That part of it is peace with God, and another part of it was the peace of God.”

  She sank back on the blanket. “I guess I’ll never have that part of it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem possible.”

  “Forget it for now. I’m sure the answer will come sooner or later. Right now I need some sleep, and so do you.” He pulled her close. “Close those big blue eyes and settle down.”

  She snuggled close, not expecting sleep to come, but it claimed her immediately.

  Billy waited in the laneway as Grace drove into the yard.

  “Home, sweet home,” he said as she stopped the engine of the car and sat waiting for the cloud of dust to pass before she pulled the leather helmet from her head and shook her curls free.

  “I don’t know if I’m sorry or glad it’s over,” she said. “Seems more like we’re saying good-bye than hello.”

  Billy, understanding that she meant it was hard to put the past month behind her, nodded. “The summer season is over. We’ve been across most of the southern part of the province and…” He shook his pockets. “We got enough money to last us a few more months. It’s time we settled down.”

  She wanted to ask why. “Settling down sounds so—”

  “Responsible?”

  She laughed. “Do I sound like I’m trying to avoid accepting responsibility?”

  He pulled her into his arms. “Not really. You’ve grown up a lot these past few months.” He grinned down at her. “Wouldn’t your father be surprised to see how much you’ve changed?” His expression sobered. “What do you tell him in the letters you send?”

  “Mostly I tell him how I’m such a good cook, how we traveled across the province on ‘business,’ and what the country is like.” She shook her head. “He’d never believe I’m capable of driving a car and handling the appointments and cooking out of doors.” She laughed. “I can hardly believe it myself.”

  “You’re a fine worker, Gracie One.”

  She laughed. “At least I’m still number one, though sometimes I wonder.”

  He kissed her nose. “Never wonder. You’ll always be number one.”

  Tears choked at her throat at the tenderness in his voice.

  “I
t’s too bad you don’t make friends with Gracie Two though.” He leaned back to look in her face. “Now that would be a perfect ending to our travels.”

  “What?”

  “Let me take you flying.”

  She wanted to say no. How many times had her heart caught in her throat as she watched him take others flying and heard the cough in the engine? She’d almost died of fright when the engine stalled as he turned loops at the show at Rose Creek. But he looked so eager. How could she refuse him? Finally, she nodded.

  “Whoopee!” he yelled.

  “Spoken like a true Albertan.” She’d heard the cry repeated time and again as they crisscrossed the province.

  “You won’t regret this. I promise you. There is nothing like the thrill of looking down. It gives you a different perspective on everything.”

  “Just get me down safely,” she muttered, following him to the airplane. He boosted her up so she could crawl into the forward seat, then he scrambled into the back one.

  A few minutes later they were airborne. Grace looked down on the house and yard, amazed at how neat they looked from the air. The air rushed past her face. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. A rush of joy swept over her at the sense of freedom, and she laughed. She turned to face Billy. He grinned widely, then pointed downward.

  Nellie and Tom stood beside their house, faces upturned. Grace waved madly. She could see their wide grins.

  Billy turned their course toward town. They swept over it twice as Grace watched, fascinated at the activity below them. Billy was right. Life held a whole different perspective from up here.

  He tapped her shoulder, and she turned to look back at him. He pointed to the south. “The river,” he mouthed.

  She nodded, and they skimmed toward the dark green line of trees that marked Red Deer River. Soon they looked down on thick treetops and flashing water. This must be what peace feels like, she thought. A rush of air that cleanses one’s thoughts; a distance that gives perspective; and a view that allows one to see far beyond the tiny spot of earth where one’s feet are planted. When Billy turned the plane homeward, she sighed, wishing they could go on forever.

  The engine coughed. Grace stiffened, turning to watch Billy. He pulled at something in the cockpit, then gave her a reassuring grin and a thumb’s-up sign. She turned back to watching the scenery speed by. Again the engine stuttered. She forced herself to relax. She’d heard the same sound a dozen times while standing on the ground. Billy had always landed safely. But when the engine coughed again and almost died, she gripped the frame of the airplane so hard her palms hurt.

  The engine coughed again and died, the sudden quiet so intense she could hear every heartbeat thundering in her chest. They hung in space.

  She turned to Billy. “What’s the matter?” Her shouted words seemed obscenely loud.

  Billy didn’t look up from his concentration on the controls. “Don’t worry. I’ll get it going again.”

  But they were falling. The air rushed past her. She moaned. “I knew I shouldn’t fly,” she muttered.

  “Duck down into the cargo space.”

  She heard his words; she knew what each meant; but she couldn’t connect to them. She sat frozen, her hands locked in place.

  “Grace.” Billy’s voice rang through her fear. “I’m going to bring her in, but it will be a little rough. I need you to crawl into that space at your feet.”

  She nodded. But still she couldn’t make herself move.

  Billy leaned forward to push on her head, but she could no more let go of her death grip than she could fly. She moaned. Wrong choice of words.

  A squeal snaked through Grace’s clenched teeth as the ground raced up to meet them. They touched down with a thud that jerked through her arms and bolted into her shoulder joints. Something snapped with the loud, angry sound of metal crumpling. The airplane spun to the left, throwing Grace against the metal frame. Searing pain ripped through her side. Agony made her loosen her grip, and she clutched at her side. A tree snapped before the plowing nose. The severed branch shot toward Grace.

  Grace ached all over. Cautiously, she opened her eyes, expecting to be in the airplane. Her eyes widened at the sight of her own bedroom.

  Billy appeared in her line of vision. “Thank God you’re awake. Thank God you’re okay.”

  She moaned. She felt far from okay. Slowly she tested each limb and found them all attached and working. “My head hurts.” Her tongue felt like an old rubber boot.

  “You have a cut above your ear.”

  She lifted a heavy arm to check and found a thick bandage. She touched it gently and moaned at the pain even her light touch brought. “Am I alright?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “How about you?”

  He nodded. “A few bruises. Nothing to worry about.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to ask about the plane.

  “Gracie Two can be repaired.”

  She heard his disappointment and voiced her own. “There goes the money we made over the summer.”

  “It’s not that bad. I can do most of the work.”

  A spasm of pain tore through her middle. She groaned and pressed her hands to her stomach. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

  Billy jerked around, somehow found a basin, and handed it to her.

  She heaved up the contents of her stomach.

  Billy took the basin out of the room. He returned with a wet cloth and sponged her face and hands.

  Tears streamed from the outer corners of her eyes, dripping into her ears. “I feel awful.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “Doc says you will for awhile.”

  “You got the doctor?”

  “You scared me half to death when you didn’t come to right away.”

  She touched the bandage on her head again. “It’s just a bang.”

  He nodded; his expression troubled.

  “What is it?”

  “Grace, why didn’t you tell me we were going to have a baby?”

  “A baby?” She pressed her flattened hands across her stomach. “I’m going to have a baby?” She laughed. “I can’t believe it.”

  “You didn’t know?”

  She shook her head, grinning foolishly. “I wondered when Nellie said something about morning sickness, but I was only sick those few days when the house smelled so bad of mice. And my monthly business has always been so irregular.” His dark eyes were guarded. A cold shudder raced across her shoulders. She began to shiver. “The baby is alright, isn’t it?”

  Billy’s shoulders slumped. He took her cold hands in his warm grasp. “Grace, you lost the baby.”

  “No.” A vicious shudder raked her body. “No.” She pressed her hands to her face. A shrill keening filled the room. It went on a full minute before Grace understood it came from her.

  Billy wrapped his hands around hers, but she jerked away, turning her face to the wall.

  The keening continued as if from a source outside herself.

  “Grace, stop it.” Billy’s voice was strained. “Stop it, I say.”

  She took a deep breath, gritted her teeth; the sound ended.

  “Now look at me.”

  She turned her face toward him, but her eyes focused on a spot behind his eyes.

  “We’ll be okay.”

  Slowly she brought her gaze to him, seeing the pain and confusion in his eyes. But not feeling it. “I should never have gone flying.” She ground the words out past aching teeth. “I should have stayed in Toronto with your parents. I would have been safe there.”

  Billy groaned. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. You know that.”

  “I lost my baby.” She turned to the wall and pulled the covers to her chin.

  Billy waited for a minute, two, three, then he moaned. “Don’t blame me, Gracie. Please don’t blame me.” When she didn’t respond, he left the room.

  After his footsteps faded, Grace stared at the wall. Her eyelids felt stretched; her eyes way too large
.

  She didn’t want to think about what had happened—not about the accident, not about Billy, not about the baby. She didn’t want to feel anything. She forced her eyes shut. Her lungs hurt. She took a shaky breath and concentrated on relaxing. Shivering, she pulled the covers closer. Mercifully, exhaustion allowed her to sleep.

  When she awoke, the room lay in dusky shadows.

  “I brought you some tea.”

  She nodded without looking at Billy. “Maybe later.” She knew he stood waiting for her to look at him or say something, but it was all she could do to keep her insides from shattering into a million fragments. If she saw her pain reflected in his eyes, she knew she would come undone. So she stared at nothing, said nothing.

  With a muffled groan, Billy left the room.

  Grace turned on her side and again let sleep hide the terrors.

  She woke momentarily when Billy crawled in beside her. He said nothing to her, made no effort to put his arms around her. Instead, he turned his back and lay stiff.

  She didn’t move a muscle. If only he would hold her and let her cry against him.

  He was gone when she awoke the next morning, bright sunlight pouring in the window.

  A suffocating ache welled up inside, threatening to choke her. She moaned, forcing it back, pressing her flattened palms to her stomach, trying to relieve the pain. But the pain did not dwell in her stomach. It swelled in her heart. It overwhelmed her in a flood. Sobbing quietly, she lay very still, tears soaking her pillow.

  Sometime later, her tears spent, her insides hollow, she lay staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing, feeling nothing.

  Billy returned at noon and brought in a tray with tea and biscuits. “Grace, you need to eat something.”

  But she turned her back to him and did not answer.

  Several times during the day, she heard him tiptoe to the bedroom. Each time she pretended to be asleep, but toward evening, he stood over the bed, waiting for her to open her eyes.

  “I knew you weren’t sleeping.” He sighed. “You can’t pretend forever. You haven’t eaten anything all day. I’ve made some soup. I want you to eat a bit of it.”

  He waited until she felt compelled to answer if only to get him to leave her alone. “I’m not hungry.”