Saving Grace: A Novel (Healing Ruby Book 3)

by Jennifer H. Westall

“The needle’s six inches long. If I miss his heart by even a hair, it’ll kill him anyway. I don’t mean to be cruel. If you can think of any other way—”

  “Alcohol!” I shouted.

  “What?”

  “Alcohol is a stimulant. Is there any around?”

  His eyes widened. “You might be on to something.” Then he ran down the hallway and disappeared.

  I turned to the mother and tried to reassure her. “He’ll be right back. What’s the boy’s name?”

  “Paolo,” she said, her voice breaking. She came to his side and took his hand, stroking the back of it.

  “I’m Grace,” I said. “Would you like to pray with me until the doctor gets back?” She nodded her head, so I closed my eyes. “Lord, please be with little Paolo and his mother. Let us find a way to save him. Give us peace of mind and wisdom.”

  “I found some!” Joseph called as he ran back toward us holding up a bottle of whiskey. He handed the bottle to me along with some gauze and a container of sugar.

  I dipped the gauze in the whiskey, followed by the sugar. Then I inserted it into the boy’s mouth. By this time, he was seriously blue, and my heart raced with fear. I begged God for the whiskey to work, and I took the mother’s hand in mine. We watched anxiously as the boy sucked on the gauze, lightly at first, but then stronger and stronger. His color began to return to normal, and I nearly jumped up on the gurney to shout praises.

  I took the mother’s hands in mine and shared her grateful smile. “Now, let’s get you taken care of too.”

  I walked over to a supply cabinet and grabbed what I needed to clean her wounds. When I returned, she was seated beside Paolo with tears streaming down her face. I thought for a moment he’d worsened, but she was smiling up at Joseph as he spoke to her in Tagalog. I irrigated the burns on her arms, surprised by her ability to withstand the pain she must have been feeling, before spraying tannic acid over them and dressing them loosely.

  “Thank you,” she said, looking between Joseph and me.

  I gave her a quick hug, taking care to avoid her bandages. “You’ll both be good as new. God bless you.”

  Joseph turned to head back into the room where I’d found him. He pulled his mask down and wiped his arm across his brow. “I’m so glad to see you. Can we talk later?”

  “Sure. I’m going to try to find a bed in the nurse’s quarters when I’m done here. Just come find me.”

  “Will do.” He pulled his mask back up and sped away to the next patient crying out in pain. And I continued on down the hallway, one patient at a time, irrigating, spraying, and praying for relief.

  ***

  After hours of working the burn ward, my body and spirit were completely spent. I found Joseph and asked him to help me find the nurses’ quarters. He led me through the maze of hallways and out to the garden area. I was shocked to see patients lined up, even out in the gardens. Men lay on blankets, stretchers, even doors that had been torn from their hinges. I stopped on the sidewalk, but Joseph put an arm over my shoulder and kept me moving. It was impossible to help everyone. Eventually we reached a set of small cottages with porches.

  “Why don’t you find a bed and get cleaned up,” Joseph said. “I’ve got a few things for you. I’ll go get them and be right back.”

  “All right. Thank you for the help.”

  The first cottage I entered was full, with belongings stashed under each of the six beds. The second was full as well. I met another nurse named Theresa who kindly told me I was welcome to share her bed if I couldn’t find another. I was about to get discouraged when I entered the third cottage. A girl about my age was buttoning up her uniform and gave me a tired smile as I came in.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m Grace. I’m a civilian nurse. Volunteered to help out. Mrs. Fincher said I could stay here if I could find a bed.”

  “Nice to meet you, Grace. I’m Sharon. I believe the bed over in the corner’s free. The nurse who was sleeping there was sent up to Fort Stotsenburg several days ago.”

  I thanked her and went over to the bed, dropping my helmet onto it. I wanted a shower so badly, but I had no soap, no clean clothes. I turned back to Sharon. “Would you happen to have a bit of soap I could use?”

  “Why, sure!” She dug into a small case on her bed and handed me a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo. “Listen, I have to report back on duty. I’ll see you later.”

  “All right. Thank you again.”

  The door clapped shut behind her, leaving me alone for the first time in what felt like years. I went into the bathroom and started the water. Then I pulled off the filthy uniform that I’d been wearing since the first night I’d arrived at Fort Stotsenburg. It smelled just awful, and I didn’t think I’d ever get the stains out. I’d have to ask Mrs. Fincher if there were any extra clothes I could use.

  I stepped beneath the tepid water and closed my eyes, relishing the water running over my skin. I watched as days of grime, blood, and horror washed down the drain. And in that moment, I couldn’t control my emotions anymore. I dropped my face into my hands and sobbed.

  When eventually I emerged from the shower, I felt as though I could sleep for days. I went to pick up my filthy uniform, dreading the stench of it, when I realized it was gone. In its place on the bed was a dress—my dress—from my things at the cottage where I’d been living the past year. Then I noticed the suitcase at the end of the bed. It was my suitcase. I opened it up to find several of my dresses, some undergarments, stockings, and another pair of my shoes.

  Joseph.

  I pulled several items out; so grateful to see the dress Daddy had bought me for Christmas when I was thirteen. And beneath that was Daddy’s Bible. I held it to my chest, thanking God for this small blessing. Then I put on the dress that had been laid on my bed, repacked my things into the suitcase, and did my best to tame my tangled wet hair.

  Stepping over to the phone in the cottage, I called the nurse’s station. A voice as drained as my own answered. “Can you tell me if Henry Graves has been into surgery yet?” I asked.

  “I’ll check. One moment.”

  As I waited, I heard a knock on the screen door. Joseph peeked in. “Is it all right to come in?”

  I covered the receiver with my hand and motioned for him to enter. “Just trying to check on Henry.”

  He took a seat on a bed across the room from mine, propping himself against the wall. He pulled up his long legs and rested his elbows on his knees, closing his eyes and waiting.

  The voice came back on the other end. “Is this Grace?”

  “Yes, were you able to find out anything on Henry?”

  “Mrs. Fincher wanted me to let you know that Henry is in a stable condition. He hasn’t been in for surgery yet. I’m afraid our surgical teams have been slammed. I’m not sure when they’ll get to him.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, thank you.”

  “Grace? Do you think you’d be able to take a shift tonight? We could use some extra hands?”

  “Of course.”

  “All right. Come in at eleven, then.”

  I hung up the phone and went over to my bed, dropping onto it so hard I was afraid I’d broken the springs. I glanced over at Joseph, who hadn’t moved. “Thank you for getting my things from my house. Especially my daddy’s Bible. That means the world to me.”

  He opened one eye. “Wasn’t any trouble.” Then he closed it again. “Good thing I went when I did. It’s been leveled by the bombing since then.”

  I was so tired I couldn’t sit up any longer. I stretched out on the bed facing Joseph, my whole body aching with fatigue. “I could sleep for days, maybe even through the bombs.”

  He was quiet for a good minute, so I thought he might have fallen asleep. Darkness crept in around me as well.

  “So your name’s not Grace Miller,” he said, startling me back to consciousness. “Is it Ruby?”

  I couldn’t read his expression. Maybe because we were both too tired
. I nodded. “How did you know?”

  “You said Henry Graves was your brother. That Bible there has a family tree in it. Henry Graves has only one sister listed.”

  “I see.” I didn’t know what to say. In a matter of just a few days I’d managed to undo years of secrets. I’d lost my ability to control my tongue, and if I wasn’t careful, it was going to cost me.

  “Kinda makes sense, I guess,” he said. “I heard him call you ‘Rubes’ a couple of times. Never thought much of it till now.” He lifted his brow like he was waiting for me to fill in the details, but I kept quiet. “Why all the secrecy?”

  “That’s a very, very long story. And frankly, I’ve never told it to anyone. I don’t intend to start now.”

  “You don’t trust me? Come on.” He shook his head. “What? Are you a criminal or something?”

  “Or something.”

  He held my gaze for a while, and I could see he was trying to work things out. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this was the beginning of my undoing, but I was tired of lying. I was tired of everything at that moment, actually. I began to drift again.

  “You could tell me,” Joseph said. “I wouldn’t judge you.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Ruby, I’d protect you.”

  Hearing him say my name sounded so strange, and yet, it was also comforting. Like coming home. I looked over at him once more, and I could see the ache in his gaze that I’d known was in my own many years before as I’d looked on Matthew. Loving someone who didn’t love you in return was about the most awful feeling in the world.

  “Joseph, listen. I’m in love with someone. Have been since I was thirteen. I can’t imagine I’ll ever love anyone else. Don’t waste your affection on me. You don’t even know me.”

  He let his head drop back against the wall again and closed his eyes. I figured we were done talking, so I closed mine as well. A heavy fog of sleep moved over me, but I heard him mumble before it claimed me for its own.

  “I would…if only you’d let me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ruby

  December 23, 1941

  The next several days blended into a dizzying period of time without measure. The mornings began with an early breakfast in the mess hall, followed by checking in on patients admitted the previous day and night and releasing those able to walk unassisted. All this needed to be accomplished before lunch at eleven. Because after lunch, the chaos started anew.

  The Japanese bombed Manila, the docks, Cavite Naval Base, and Nichols Field every day between noon and one. They attacked like clockwork, with virtually no American planes to deter them, no anti-aircraft guns to reach them. The best we could do was take shelter and ride it out. Patients well enough to move were placed in slit trenches dug all around the hospital. Those that couldn’t move hung on to their sanity as the earth shook, lights flickered, and the walls rattled.

  When the bombing was over, the rest of the day shifted into a frenzy. New casualties would flood the wards. Surgical teams worked long into the night under blackout conditions to save as many as they could. What amazed me through all of this was the total commitment from the personnel, from the motor pool to the mess hall, from the orderlies up to the surgeons. No one slacked off for a moment. No matter how exhausted we were, each person filled their role with everything they had.

  At night, when I was able to grab a few hours of rest, I cried out to God on behalf of the men, women, and children I’d served that day, but I also thanked Him for the opportunity to be part of such an amazing group of people. And then, in the quiet, I prayed He would restore my gift. I longed to be able to stop the suffering surrounding me. If only He’d work through me again, maybe some of them could be saved. But the gift of healing remained a distant memory.

  Once, about five days or so after I’d arrived at Sternberg, I went to check on Henry and found Janine standing beside his bed. He’d finally been able to get the surgery he’d needed for his torn ligaments, and the doctor had removed some lingering shrapnel that had been giving him terrible pain. So Henry was sitting up, flirting just like his old self, when I came in.

  Janine smiled at me and gave me a hug. “Oh, Grace, it’s so good to see you.”

  I returned her embrace. “It’s good to see you too. When did you get here?”

  “They shipped us down yesterday. They’re clearing out everyone from Fort Stotsenburg. Word is the Japs have landed in Lingayen Gulf. They’re marching south.”

  This wasn’t unexpected news, but it was frightening all the same. “How long do we have until they reach Manila?”

  “About a week…maybe a little longer,” Henry said. “Depends on how determined they are to get here.”

  “Manila’s been declared an open city,” Janine said. “All military personnel are being moved. I heard we’re all headed for Bataan.”

  “The jungle?” I asked. “Why can’t they just evacuate us out of the Philippines altogether? The jungle’s the worst possible place to send sick and injured men.”

  Henry, with an unusually serious dimeanor, met my gaze. “The Japs got the islands surrounded. Ain’t no one getting in, or out of here. Bataan is just a way to hold out until reinforcements come.”

  I did my best to ignore the twist of fear worming into my heart as I pictured the Japanese soldiers marching in our direction.

  “Probably best to focus on our jobs here until we know something definite,” Janine said with a bit of forced cheer. She looked down at Henry and smiled. “Speaking of which, do you need anything before I get back to my duties?”

  He held out a hand. She took it, and he pulled her closer. “Just a kiss before you go?”

  She giggled and kissed him on the forehead. “That’ll have to do for now.”

  He threw up his hands in protest. “Well, for Pete’s sake, I can get one of those from just about any of these nurses around here.”

  She pointed a reprimanding finger at him. “You better watch it. I’ll have Mary Alice give you a sponge bath.”

  Henry glanced over at the large, abrasive nurse checking on a patient across the room. His face contorted. “Oh, no. Please. Anything but that.”

  Janine turned to go, so I said goodbye to Henry and walked with her for a piece. “I think I’ll head out to the garden for some fresh air,” I said. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Hold on just a minute,” Janine said, grabbing my arm and pulling me to the side of the hallway. She reached into the pocket of her coveralls and pulled out a slip of paper. “Right before we were evacuated, your friend Matthew found me and asked me to give you this.”

  I took it and stared at it for a moment. “Was he…was he all right?”

  “Seemed to be. I think he was being moved out as well.” She frowned. “Say, tell me something. You two seem to mean something special to each other, but I heard Natalie talking about him like they’re together. What’s going on there?”

  I didn’t have an answer, at least not one that I could explain. “It’s a little complicated.”

  She shrugged. “Well, it’s none of my business. I better get to work. See ya.”

  “See ya,” I said.

  I turned and hurried through the halls and out into the garden, where I found a bench and tore open the letter before I’d even sat down.

  Dear Ruby,

  I feel terrible about the way we left things. I always hated being mad at you, and hated it even more when you were mad at me. I’ve been praying for understanding, that God would allow me to see things through your eyes. I know in my heart you didn’t mean to hurt me. I just can’t seem to get past my own pride. This whole world’s a mess right now, and I don’t know what the future holds. We’re being moved to Bataan, but I don’t know exactly where yet. Please stay safe. I can’t make heads or tails of things, but underneath my pride and anger, even when I wish I didn’t, I know I still love you.

  Yours,

  Matthew

  Relief washed over me, and I held the lett
er to my chest as I thanked God. Matthew was safe. He still loved me. This at least, was a beginning.

  I made my way to my quarters to get some rest before the evening shift. When I walked inside and went over to my bed, I noticed a dress laid out that wasn’t mine. Other personal items—a brush, makeup, bobby pins—were spread across the bed as well. Before I could figure out whose they were, Natalie appeared in the bathroom doorway with a towel wrapped around her.

  “Grace?” she said. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I was going to rest a bit before my shift. When did you get back?”

  “You’re working here?” she asked, as if it was the most absurd thing she’d ever heard. “I suppose with things the way they are, they have to get help from wherever they can find it.”

  I slid Matthew’s letter into my pocket as she walked over to the bed and sat down, rubbing a towel against her short hair. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe the time I’ve had. After they forced me to go up to Stotsenburg, which might as well be the front line, and I nearly died trying to save those boys’ lives, I come back here and find out they just gave my bed away. I’ve got nowhere to sleep, and I’m exhausted!”

  “Oh, was this your bed? I had no idea. I’m sorry. You can have it back.”

  She smiled up at me. “Oh, thank you so much. I suppose those are your things I moved.” She pointed next to the bed where my belongings were haphazardly strewn against the wall. “It really is very kind of you.”

  “Of course,” I said, gathering my things in my arms. “I’ll just find another bed.” I was willing to do just about anything to keep her quiet and happy for the time being, at least until Henry was well enough to help me figure out what to do.

  December 24, 1941

  The following day was Christmas Eve, and though some of the staff and patients tried to make it festive, most of us were too drained to make merriment. That morning, I was called into a meeting with Mrs. Fincher and Dr. Stimson, who’d been coordinating the non-military volunteers. There were a few other nurses and doctors present, and when Joseph came into the room, he immediately frowned at me.