The chatter of the women around me went quiet, and the hair on my arm prickled. A gentle, quiet voice whispered in my mind.
My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.
My heart swelled, and I almost cried out with the prick of joy that came with the scripture. It was only a moment, a reprieve from the burden of my grief. But it gave me hope.
Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come. ’Twas grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.
I opened my eyes with a small measure of peace in my heart that hadn’t been there before. Across the mess hall, at a table by herself, Natalie sat staring out of a window. No one had spoken to her much, and she hadn’t said a word. My spirit stirred me to take pity on her, so I walked over to her and sat down at the table.
She turned to glance at me, surprise registering in the dullness of her eyes. She dropped her gaze to the empty plate in front of her. “What are you doing?”
“I wanted to speak with you,” I said.
She shook her head and turned back to the windows. “Please leave me alone.”
I wanted to. I wanted to leave her in her misery. It was what she deserved. But the small voice inside me was insistent. Grace.
“Natalie, I want you to know that I forgive you.”
Tears ran down her cheeks, and she swiped at them immediately. She turned to me, almost in frustration. “Who are you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Why did you help me? On the dock. When I was running. You could have just left me there. Why did you help me?”
“Because God told me to.”
“What?”
“God told me to help you.”
Her eyes darted around the mess hall in bewilderment. “But I…I didn’t help you. I didn’t tell the bus to stop.”
“Believe me, if it were up to me, I would have left you there. That’s exactly what you deserved. But I know in my heart that God has given me immeasurable, wonderful grace that covers all my sin. And He wants to offer you the same. An abundant grace that fills you with joy and love. He saved you, Natalie. Not me. He did it. The question is: what are you going to do about it?”
This time she made no attempt to stop the tears from flowing. “I’m so sorry for everything. I was so terrible to you. I don’t know how you can ever forgive me.”
“God’s grace is sufficient for both of us. It’s overflowing. It covers me; it will cover you.” And it’s covering Matthew too.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ruby
May 1942
We were flown on a B-17 bomber from Darwin to Melbourne on May 5th, moving me even further away from transportation back to Matthew. But I realized my best chance would lie with officials at Headquarters, so I resigned myself to staying there as long as necessary.
As the plane climbed above the small town of Darwin, I viewed the devastation of a recent Japanese bombing, and I wondered if there was any place on earth left untouched by war. For the first time since I’d left, I longed for Hanceville, Alabama. What I wouldn’t give to see my Mother’s face, to talk with Asa again and have him set my feet back on the path God chose for me. To play with little Abner and hear his laughter.
But I couldn’t go home. Not without Matthew and Henry. And not with the threat of execution hanging over me. I tried desperately to think of a plan during the flight to Melbourne, but I knew nothing about the structure of the military beyond my limited exposure. I knew I needed to get someone influential on my side. I needed to figure out where Matthew might be—there was no thought in my mind that he was anything other than alive somewhere on Mindanao. And I needed someone in authority, possibly MacArthur himself, to order a rescue mission. By the time I arrived at Headquarters with the rest of the nurses, I was certain I could find a way to bring Matthew and the other stranded evacuees to Australia. I just needed someone to listen.
At first, we were treated for our various medical conditions at the base hospital. Already, I could feel the effects of the full doses of quinine. My stomach was still unsure of things and reminded me of its ordeal frequently, but even that was improving. The shocking part was my appearance. I’d lost over twenty pounds, and as I gazed at myself in a full-length mirror for the first time in months, I got a complete view of how war had ravaged my body. I looked ten years older.
My hair was as rough as a mule’s tail; my cheeks were sunken, and my skin dull. I had no meat left on my bones, no curves to speak of. I looked a fright, indeed. But it mattered so little, I barely attempted to right myself. A hot shower and a dab of makeup were all I managed before making my way to a meeting room on base where we were to be questioned by Army officials. I was looking forward to this, because I had a few questions of my own.
As soon as the young man from Military Intelligence sat down across from me, I laid into him. “Is the Army doing anything to get the other group out?”
His blue eyes widened at my sudden question. He couldn’t have been much older than I was, and I could tell from his uniform he wasn’t very high in the rank structure. “Um, well, Miss…” He glanced down at the papers in his hands. “Miss Miller—”
“It’s Mrs. Doyle. My husband is Captain Matthew Doyle, who was among the group that was left behind. I want to know if any effort is being made to retrieve them.”
“Ma’am, that’s not…I’m just supposed to ask you some questions. I don’t—”
“Then who does?” I leaned onto the table separating us and bore my gaze into his. “Who do I have to talk to that knows what’s going on over there?”
He looked around the room as if he needed help. “Ma’am…Mrs. Doyle, I would like to help you out, but I really need to do my job.”
“Then do it! Find out if the Army is going to bring my husband home.”
“I will do everything I can to help you, but first, I just need you to answer a few questions.”
I sat back in my chair and huffed. “All right then. Let’s make this quick.”
He glanced down at the papers in the folder on the table. “Okay, let’s make sure I have the correct information. Your name is…”
“Grace Doyle.”
“I have Grace Miller.”
“I married Captain Doyle on Bataan.”
He wrote that down. “And you’re an American citizen?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where were you born?”
I sighed. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m just supposed to ask the questions.”
“Alabama. Hanceville, Alabama.” It was the first time I’d answered that question honestly in over five years. What was I thinking?
He wrote that down too. Then he proceeded to ask me the details of how I’d come to be on Bataan with the Army Nurse Corps. I did my best to keep my answers short and to the point. When we’d finished, I asked him again whom I should speak with to get more information. He pointed to a broad, older man who appeared to be observing the questioning from the front of the room. “I’d start with Colonel Dorsey over there,” he said. “He might be able to help you out.”
I thanked him and headed over to the front of the room where Colonel Dorsey sat reading over the notes already delivered to him from other officers. “May I speak with you, Colonel Dorsey?” I asked, as patiently as my anxious heart would allow.
He glanced up at me as if I were a fly buzzing around his meal. “What’s that?”
“May I speak with you for a moment?”
As he took in my ravaged appearance, his demeanor softened. “What can I do for you?”
I took a seat across from him and prayed he would know something. “Sir, my husband, Captain Matthew Doyle, was left behind on Mindanao, along with other nurses and officers. I was wondering if there’s been any attempt to go back for them?”
“You’re Captain Doyle’s wife?”
The way he said that made my stomach swim. I nodded, and he droppe
d his gaze to the table for a long moment before he looked at me again. “Mrs. Doyle, I’m aware of no mission to return for the other evacuees. Mindanao fell into Japanese hands the day your party arrived on the island. You were lucky to escape with your lives.”
My eyes stung. “So…what? The army just gives up on them? They’re left to fend for themselves?”
“At this point, there is no air base in the region for a plane to land on. It would be a suicide mission.”
I swiped at my tears, refusing to give up. “You’re in the Intelligence Service, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So you get reports about what’s happening over there, right?”
“I have access to most of them, yes.”
“Has there been any word…about what happened to the other group? About what happened to Matthew? Do you know where they are?”
He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but seated across from me. “Mrs. Doyle, I can’t speak to you about classified information; however, what I can tell you is this. Captain Doyle was last seen by Colonel Nathan Hanson, who boarded the plane with you and delivered a message to you from Captain Doyle.”
“How do you know about that?”
“We’ve already debriefed the crew and the other passengers.” He sighed. “There’s been no word from Captain Doyle, but at least we know the last sighting of him puts him as still possibly alive. And his actions were of the highest valor. I know this isn’t any comfort right now, but his sacrifice will not be in vain. General MacArthur is fully committed to turning the tide of this war and liberating those left behind in enemy hands.”
He was right. It was no comfort. None at all.
***
I spent the rest of the day in a fog, wondering what I should do next. The other nurses offered their support, but none of them really knew me, and they knew nothing of what Matthew and I had already been through years before arriving in the Philippines. How could they possibly understand the depth of my sorrow?
So I went to the only One who could. That night, I sobbed into my mattress as I knelt beside the bed, my chest sore from heaving. I was spent, and still the tears flowed. My anger had finally hit a boiling point, and I turned my face to heaven and yelled, “Where are You?”
It came up out of me with an anger in my spirit I’d never felt before. “I’ve begged You! I’ve pleaded with You! All I’ve asked for is Your presence and comfort. I’m not asking for a miracle! I don’t understand what’s happened, but I can accept that You are Lord. Just…please…please…don’t leave me here. I only need You.” I pounded my fist into the mattress, sobs wracking my body. “I only need You. I only need You. Everything else can fade away. I can face whatever lies ahead. But I need You. Lord, please, come near to me.”
The room was so still, so quiet. And so empty. I hadn’t felt so alone in all my life. Where was God when I needed Him most? And then, like a procession of images through my mind, God showed me.
Henry. He’d been there for me when I was alone and terrified after the car accident. He’d stayed with me, despite all his instincts to run from trouble. He’d never left me.
Joseph. He’d taken me in when I had no purpose, no path to redemption. And he’d given me a chance to serve others again. With no strings attached, and all his love.
Janine. She’d loved me like a sister, and she had believed in me. She had loved my brother with all her heart, and had joined our family without reservation.
Matthew. God had brought us back together, and despite the pain and suffering around us, He’d given us precious moments together I’d never forget. And in the end, God had placed Matthew in the perfect place to save the lives of all of us on that plane.
Maybe I hadn’t felt His presence, but He’d been there all the same. He hadn’t left me, and He wouldn’t leave me now. He had given me my new name, and His grace would sustain me in whatever lay ahead.
I am God, and there is no other;
I am God, and there is none like me.
I crawled under the covers and for the first time since we’d left Mindanao, I was able to fall asleep with hope in my heart.
***
The next day, the nurses and I got word that Corregidor had surrendered to the Japanese, and we spent the morning quietly thinking of all those we’d left behind. All those patients. What would become of them? The soldiers? Our friends and comrades? Henry? Some of the girls went to their rooms and didn’t come out again the rest of the day.
I went to the mess hall at lunchtime, and found a table near the windows where I could take in the scenery while I prayed for Henry and Matthew. I figured until I knew one way or the other, I would assume they were both alive, and I would trust God to keep them safe. What else could I do?
I’d gotten about halfway through my meal, when Mr. Freeman approached me and asked if he could sit down. “Sure,” I said. “What can I do for you?”
He leaned back in his chair, his intense eyes studying me closely. “I spoke with Natalie Williams earlier this morning.”
“Oh?” I did my best to sound nonchalant.
“She’s singing a different tune.” I took another bite of my sandwich as an excuse not to answer. So he continued. “She says she was confused and afraid. That she just wanted to get away from the Japanese, so she made up that whole story about you.”
I swallowed and gave him a shaky smile. “Yes, she apologized to me as well. All’s been forgiven.”
“Funny thing is, I rang my editor back in the States as soon as we arrived. Told him about some of the stories I was working on. Profiles of the nurses and such. And on a whim, I told him to check out the story Natalie had told me on the island.”
The bottom dropped out of my stomach. He seemed to be waiting for me to respond, but I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t hold his gaze, so I turned my face to the window. The game was up. I knew it. And I’d be shipped back home to face the electric chair.
“You want to know what he said?” Mr. Freeman asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Should be interesting.”
“He confirmed everything. Said there was indeed a young Alabama woman named Ruby Graves convicted of murder back in ’36 and sentenced to the electric chair. Lots of debate over whether or not she really did it. She claimed the guy was attacking her, and she was only defending herself.” He paused and raised an eyebrow. I kept quiet. “Anyway, turns out when the cops were transporting her to the state prison, there was an escape attempt, and she was killed in a car accident.” His mouth tipped into a wry smile. “Well, at least they declared her dead. Never found the body.”
I cleared my throat. “That’s a tragic story.”
“If she was innocent, yes. If she was guilty, I’d say justice was served.”
I stared back into his eyes, which were still slightly sunken from malnutrition. “What do you think?”
He leaned up on his elbows and lowered his voice. “I think, this girl…Ruby…she’s probably one of the most honest, caring, and brave people on earth.” Then he smiled mischievously. “No way she killed anyone.”
My shoulders relaxed, and I let out a long breath.
“It’s really too bad she died,” he finished, leaning back again. “I bet she has the most interesting stories to tell.”
I couldn’t help but smile a little. “Guess you’ll never know.”
He shrugged. “I’m all right with that. I’ll have plenty to keep me busy for a long time. The nurses, the doctors over there, and the soldiers—they deserve to have their stories told. The world needs to know what the Japanese are doing to our boys. And I’m determined to make sure it happens.”
He stood and pushed his chair back under the table, his expression turning thoughtful. “I am curious, though. I can’t help but wonder if she did it. Ruby, I mean. If she really killed that man. I’m having trouble with that.” He waited for a moment, and then shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter. You have a nice day, Mrs. Doyle. You deserve it.”
<
br /> He took a few steps, and something irrational came over me. “Mr. Freeman,” I called. He turned around and suddenly it was as if there were only two of us in the mess hall. Accused and Judge. “She didn’t.”
He grinned. “I didn’t think so.” He waved a final goodbye and headed out the doors, leaving me to wonder how, in a world overcome by war, I’d managed to avoid that particular bomb going off.
***
A couple of weeks later, after being cared for and given leave to rest as much as they liked, the Army nurses were ordered back to the States. As usual, it was a mad dash to gather them all and pack their things. Captain Beckett had convinced her superiors to allow her to stay. She wanted to be in the first group back to the Philippines as soon as it was recaptured. I was grateful, because I was sticking around as well.
If Matthew and Henry were alive, then Melbourne was the closest I could stay to them, and it was where Matthew had told me to wait for him. So I would. I would wait forever if I had to.
I found a job as a waitress in a small café, and I was able to rent an apartment nearby. I called Colonel Dorsey every day, asking if there was any word. He never once refused to take my call, and if he was busy, he always returned the call. Although he was tight-lipped about it, he hinted that a handful of Americans had refused to surrender on the various islands in the Philippines, and that the Communications officers were trying to establish contact with some of them.
I kept my hope alive that Matthew was somewhere on Mindanao, fighting to stay alive, and fighting to come back to me. At night, in my bed, I would remember the feeling of him lying next to me, holding me close. And I’d hear his words, promising that God would always bring us back together.
Until that day, I would lift up every soul I could think of by name that was still trapped in the Philippines. That would be my new mission. To pray unceasingly, until they were home.
Saving Grace: A Novel (Healing Ruby Book 3) Page 31