Saving Grace: A Novel (Healing Ruby Book 3)

by Jennifer H. Westall

  Every night, I went to a quiet spot along the river and poured out my heart before the Lord. I prayed for the men I’d nursed that day, for my family back home, for Henry’s safety, for Matthew’s safety and peace of mind. I called out in agony, begging God to send me some small sign that He was with me, that He’d forgiven me for my fear and doubt over the years. But the night remained still, with only the chatter of monkeys and the songs of crickets and frogs as my answer.

  “Why?” I sobbed one night, as I peered up through a break in the jungle canopy. “Why won’t You come near? I need Your comfort and reassurance. I’ve tried so hard to pour every ounce of my being into caring for the sick and injured. I’ve told You I was sorry for running away, for lying to everyone, and for doubting Your plans for me. I’m so sorry. Please, just send Your spirit. Speak to my heart again. Even if You don’t restore the gift of healing, please just speak to me. I’m desperate for You. Only You.”

  I leaned against the rock behind me and covered my face, crying until I had nothing left. There were no answers, no quiet words of comfort or scriptures brought to my mind. Once the tears let up, I pulled myself together and headed off to bed for another restless night of tossing and turning.

  The next day was Sunday, and I’d been looking forward to it all week. A small chapel had been built out of bamboo, and we were having our first worship service that evening after mess. It put a little extra energy into my day, and I was able to forget the loneliness of the previous evening.

  “You’re awful chipper today,” a patient named Thomas White said, as I tugged gently on the dressing around his upper arm. It had been amputated a few days before.

  I smiled at him as he looked up at me through a morphine haze. “God is good.”

  He shook his head. “God took my arm.”

  “That’s true, but He gave you your life.”

  “For now, anyway.”

  I hummed a hymn as I checked his sutures and changed the dressing, and he joined in every once in a while. As I finished up, I placed my hand on his chest and closed my eyes. “Lord, bless Thomas. Heal his body, and his spirit. Give him peace, and let him know that he belongs to You forever.”

  When I opened my eyes, Thomas was asleep, his remaining hand resting on mine. I gently slid my hand away, and waved at Sandra, the nurse who was supervising my assigned ward. She waved back, and I headed for mess area #2. It was closest to our quarters, and all the nurses not working ate there together. On my way across the camp, I saw Joseph come out of the brush from the direction of the gas gangrene ward. His expression was grim until he saw me, and then he smiled. I waited for him to catch up and we walked the rest of the way together.

  “You looked perplexed,” I said. “Everything all right?”

  “Just thinking about the gangrene cases. I’ve been over there all week trying to figure out a better way to treat them since we’ve run out of antitoxin.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “Nothing substantial yet. But those poor fellas deserve some relief.”

  I agreed, but I also needed a change in subject before eating, so I asked if he was going to the worship service that evening.

  “Oh, certainly. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Good,” I said. “We’ll go together.”

  I tried to keep the conversation up as we waited in line. This was the worst part of mess. My mouth would water and ache, knowing it was about to be fed. But my stomach would roll with nausea, knowing the same dismal food would be waiting for me: carabao meat, rice, tomatoes. When I finally got my plate and took a seat between Joseph and Janine, I said a quick prayer thanking God for the food, but I couldn’t say I meant it very much.

  Just then, I saw Matthew seated on the other side of the clearing beside Natalie. He leaned toward her and spoke something in her ear, and she chuckled. What was he doing back here? I glanced down at my plate and picked at the gray meat. So much for enjoying the evening.

  To make matters worse, halfway through the meal bombs exploded close enough to send everyone scrambling for trenches. Joseph helped me and then Janine climb down into a nearby trench, but then he stood off to the side while the bombing continued.

  “What are you doing?” I shouted. “Get in a trench!”

  “It’s not that close,” he said. “I’m making sure no one steals our food while you’re hiding.”

  I shook my head and said a prayer for his safety. “Sometimes he can be such a pain in my rear,” I said to Janine.

  She grabbed my arm and pulled me down, covering her head with her hands. We leaned into one another as we rode out the concussions for the next several minutes. All the while, I could see the top of Joseph’s head stationed near our table.

  Chapter Eleven

  Matthew

  February 8, 1942

  As the bombing drew closer, I helped some of the nurses climb into a trench. I’d planned to stay outside the trench to give all the girls and patients room, but Natalie clung to me harder with each concussion, and she refused to get inside without me. It was annoying, but I realized the girl was genuinely terrified. Her entire body shook, and tears streaked her grimy face.

  “Natalie,” I said as gently and sternly as I could. “You need to get into the trench, honey. You’ll be safe in there.”

  She squeezed my arm so hard I was sure the circulation was cut off. “I can’t. I can’t let go.”

  I scooted her closer to the side, and several of the other girls reached up toward her, trying to convince her to get in. She looked down at them and then back at me. Then she shook her head and closed her eyes. I took a quick glance around to make sure the women and patients were all taken care of. Across the clearing, Joseph stood above the trenches on that side as if he were guarding them.

  Everyone was as secure as they were going to get, so I sat down on the side of the trench and pulled Natalie down with me. “Come on,” I eased. “I’ll get in with you.”

  She lowered herself beside me, and we scooted into the trench together. Once settled, I slid down the wall, and pulled Natalie under my arm. She shook as if she was freezing, and buried her face into my chest. I did my best to keep her calm, but with every explosion, she jumped and sobbed.

  “It’s going to be all right,” I said. “Come on. Those aren’t nearly close enough to hurt any of us.”

  “I can’t…help it. I…can’t stop…shaking.”

  I held her a little tighter and spoke quietly into her ear, hoping to take her mind off our surroundings. “Tell me about your family back home. You’re from Nashville, right? What kind of place was it where you grew up?”

  She looked up at me like I was nuts. “Home? It was…just a…normal place.”

  “A farm?”

  “No, a place in town.” She shuddered again. “A big white house with…a fence around…and a huge oak tree.”

  “Did you have brothers and sisters?”

  “Two sisters, but they were much older. From my father’s first marriage.”

  “Were you close?”

  “No,” she said, her shuddering finally slowing. “They hardly ever came around. They said my mother was crazy, and they didn’t want my father to marry her.”

  I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. But a bomb hit close enough to send dirt and debris into the trench, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, stifling a scream. I squeezed her close again, and went back to talking as quickly as possible. “They thought she was crazy, huh? What was she really like?”

  “She actually was crazy. Well, at least, I heard the doctor tell my father something like that when I was little. I mean, some days she was amazing. We’d get all dressed up and go out on the town, and she’d take me to the most expensive shops and buy me any dress I wanted. Then she’d take me for ice cream, and we’d laugh until our stomachs hurt.”

  “That doesn’t sound too crazy.”

  “Well, other times, she’d lock herself in her bedroom for days, sometimes weeks, and I could hear her crying. My fat
her had no idea what to do with her. He just took off when she was like that, so I had to take care of her.”

  Another concussion sent her face back into my chest, and she shook there for a minute. I rubbed her back and waited for her to calm again. “That must’ve been real hard on you. Taking care of your mother at such a young age.”

  “It was. That was one reason I wanted to get out of there so badly. Especially once Mother died, and Daddy went crazy too.”

  The bombs had stopped, and so had her shaking, but her tears still flowed. I wondered if asking about her family had been a mistake. I stood and pulled her up, keeping my arm over her shoulder. Her legs still seemed wobbly. I helped her over to the side of the trench, and one of the other nurses helped pull her out. As I climbed out, I surveyed the damage. A few overturned chairs mostly, and some ashen faces, but the bombs had not been close enough to do any real damage.

  I was thankful then that the other nurses came forward to take charge of comforting Natalie. It gave me a chance to help straighten things up, plus I admit I felt suddenly out of my depth, as if I’d inadvertently uncovered something rotten from her past. We cleaned up our plates from dinner. No one spoke much for a few minutes, but gradually chuckles returned to conversations, and before long, everyone was talking and laughing normally again. I glanced over at Ruby, who’d climbed out of a trench on the other side. She met my gaze, and held it for a minute. Something in her eyes grabbed me, as if she longed to speak to me. But it was fleeting, and she turned away.

  Natalie slipped her hand around my elbow, appearing from nowhere. “Thank you for keeping me calm,” she said. “I’m sorry I was so difficult.”

  I patted her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you weren’t the only one who was afraid.”

  “Want to go for a walk?”

  I dropped her hand and took a step away from her. “Nah, I’m heading over to the chapel. I think the service is starting soon.”

  “Oh,” she said, her face falling into a frown. “That’s right. That was why you came in the first place.”

  “You, uh…you want to come?” I had to admit, a small part of me hoped she’d say no. But guilt shot through me. Didn’t everyone deserve the comfort of the Lord right now?

  “Ah, I think I’ll head back to the river to clean up,” she said. “I’m still feeling a little woozy.”

  I said goodbye and headed over to the small chapel that had been set up recently. The chaplain, Sergeant Watters, called it the Church of All Faiths. There were a few rows of bamboo benches, a bamboo altar, and a couple of foxholes nearby. As we gathered together, most of the men sat on the ground up front, the women on the benches in the back. I stood behind the benches and kept one eye on the sky, the other on Ruby seated several rows in front of me.

  Sergeant Watters made a few announcements, his soft voice barely carrying to the back. He concluded with a gentle admonition. “You fellas make sure to scatter if the Japs come back. Let the women take the foxholes.”

  Then he swung his arms up and led us in a few hymns. We stuck to the familiar since no one had a hymnal. ‘How Great Thou Art’ and ‘Holy, Holy, Holy’ were easy enough for most. Then Sergeant Watters read from Second Corinthians a lengthy description of all that Paul suffered in the name of Christ, from beatings to shipwrecks, to imprisonment. Hunger. Thirst. A list every one of us could feel in our own bodies.

  He concluded with these verses from chapter twelve:

  “And lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure. For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me. And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distress for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.”

  Sergeant Watters closed the Bible and looked around at those gathered before him with a sad sort of smile, placing his fist over his heart. “Young men and women, you are in the midst of great persecution, both of body and spirit. Do not lose heart. Your Father in Heaven knows of your pain, your hunger, and your fears. Give your cares to Him daily, and He will guard your soul. I cannot stand before you and ask you to be glad over your sufferings, but God tells us to rely on His strength when we are at our weakest. And we can know that we have a mighty warrior on our side.”

  “Amen,” resonated around the chapel, accompanied by several nodding heads. I hadn’t yet felt the suffering many of the patients here had; especially those too sick or injured to make it to the chapel. But I had a strong suspicion that my time was coming. And I had to wonder if I had what it would take to keep my faith intact in such circumstances.

  As everyone stood to leave, Ruby turned and once again made eye contact with me. She glanced around before making her way through the benches to the back where I still stood. I could see she’d been fighting off tears, perhaps from the chaplain’s message. I ached to wrap my arms around her. Why was she still so distant?

  “I was surprised to see you,” she said. “Are you staying for a while?”

  I shook my head. “Just came for the service. I’m heading back to Cabcaben in a little while.”

  “Oh.” She looked around again. What was with her nervousness all the time? It was like she was afraid someone was watching her.

  “Ruby, why can’t you talk to me? Why can’t we work this out?”

  She rubbed her hands together. “I promise, it’s nothing to do with you. I just…”

  “Just what?”

  She looked around again. “I better go. I have to report back to my ward in a few minutes.”

  I sighed and rubbed my palms against my eyes. “All right. I’ll be back again next Sunday. Can we please talk then? We can go somewhere quiet. Just the two of us.”

  “M—Maybe. I really do have to go.”

  She scurried away before I could say any more. I was about to turn to go, when I caught Joseph’s eye from across the chapel. He raised his hand toward me and began walking in my direction. “Hey, Matthew,” he called. “Wait up.”

  “I have to get over to the truck,” I said. “It’ll have to be quick.”

  “I’ll walk with you, then,” he said.

  “All right.”

  We walked a few paces, and at first he seemed unsure of what he wanted to say. But he didn’t take long to get pretty direct about things.

  “It upsets Grace when she sees you. Why is that?”

  “Maybe you can tell me. She isn’t really saying much to me.”

  “How do you know Grace?”

  I eyed him sideways, deciding caution was best. “We know each other from back home.”

  “Then you know her? I mean…you actually know her?”

  The tone in his voice gave me pause. What had Ruby been telling this guy? “Yeah, I know her. What about it?”

  “I’m just worried about her. Something doesn’t seem right with her. I mean, she’s always been quiet about her past, but she’s never hesitated to speak up and put me in my place. But recently she’s just completely withdrawn. And like I said, she gets upset when she sees you.”

  I stopped and faced him, tired of all the intrigue of the past weeks. “Look, just tell me straight up what your relationship is with Grace. Are you two…together?”

  “No,” he said.

  “But you would like to be. Am I right?”

  He sighed and rubbed his hand over his brow. “Look, all I know is that something’s wrong. I thought you might know what it is, but I guess you’re as clueless as I am.”

  “Seems that way.”

  “Well, I’ll let you get going. Sorry to have bothered you.”

  I shook the hand he offered and took off for the truck waiting at the main hospital. Part of me
was begrudgingly impressed that he cared enough about her to know something was off. But that small part was quickly beaten down by the part of me that had no intention of sharing her with anyone else. I was done with being in the dark. Come the following Sunday, Ruby and I were going to get all this mess straightened out once and for all.

  Ruby

  February 12, 1942

  In my assigned ward Thursday morning, I could hardly stand on my own two feet for more than a few minutes. I’d never been so hungry, so weakened, and so pathetic in my entire life. On Monday morning, Natalie had sat down across from me, looking so sickly I actually felt bad for her. She made a pitiful effort to be friendly for about two minutes, and then she just outright asked me to give her my breakfast. My meager, tiny, less-than-five-hundred-calorie breakfast. After another cut in our rations, we were down to only two meals a day. One thousand calories to live on, and she wanted half of them. I must’ve looked at her like she was downright crazy.

  But then she sat up straighter, looked around at the other nurses taking their seats nearby, and said, “Why, Ruby, that’s an amazing story.” She leaned in a little closer. “All that running from the law must make a girl pretty desperate.”

  I had pushed my tray over to her and hissed, “Just this once.”

  But she and I both knew it wouldn’t be just once.

  Without my breakfast each day, I barely made it to four-thirty mess before I crashed completely. I told Natalie that if she insisted on starving me to death, she’d have no one else to get food from. Defiantly she’d shove another bite of my breakfast in her mouth. But she’d left me the toast.

  Back when my family was working as sharecroppers, I’d just thought I knew what it was like to go hungry. I’d lost weight, and my stomach had cramped most days. But this was something else entirely. All I could think about was food. Steak. Bacon. Eggs. Pie. Carrots. Peas…The obsession wouldn’t stop.

  Every time it seemed that I couldn’t bear it a moment longer, I’d think about Jesus out in the wilderness, fasting for forty days. At least I had one meal to look forward to.