to his breast pocket. Yet still, he did not speak.
Instead of dwelling on her disappointment, Grace chose to help free her husband from his own harsh self-judgments, for surely he must have sensed he had fallen short. But how could she expect more of a man so preoccupied with matters of the spirit? She whisked away any unreasonable hopes along with the flies on the back of the cow and began to pet the animal with pretend delight, which was silly given that she had spent enough time on her grandparents' farm to know a work animal for what it was.
The smell of smoke wafted near again. She could see that the Reverend felt some relief that her onslaught had subsided. He appeared happily puzzled by the simple concerns of this world as he searched for the source of the distant fire.
"They must be clearing the fields," he said, rising onto his toes and rocking back again. "Extraordinary how spring brings out the optimist in man, even the poor farmer with no rain in the forecast. I believe the Chinese are even more resilient than my father was in a bad year."
"They have to be," she said, more flatly than intended. "It is their pitiful circumstance."
The truth was that Grace had seen no signs of industriousness on their ride into the countryside from Fenchow-fu. The fields stood fal low as the drought entered its second year. To her, the black cloud that had appeared on the horizon seemed to be rising not from fields as a sign of some farmer's forward-thinking efforts but instead as an indication of trouble in the last hamlet they had passed through. Then again, she was more apt to look for indications of ill luck or sorrow.
He had been right to bring her into the country, away from the town of Fenchow-fu, where, outside the missionary compound, instances of human suffering abounded. The Chinese children to whom she taught kindergarten routinely ate dirt. Many of their parents, good Christians, had not seen proper soap in months. Grace presided over the weekly ablutions where lye and a small strip of cloth were handed out to the long lines that formed before the men's and women's tubs. But how these people survived on so little sustenance remained a mystery to her. They ate nothing more than pale broth and dried meats swarming with flies, stone soup, and mush made from the ragged grasses nearby.
And those were the ones who still had homes. The beggars in the streets sat on their haunches not far from human and animal refuse. They stared at her with eyes scabbed over and unseeing. The smells, dear Lord, even the memory of the smells should have been enough to make them gag, as Grace did suddenly now. The humming in her head started to return, and she felt upset with herself for having brought it on with unpleasant thoughts. She bent forward and tugged at her high lace collar, covering her choking sounds with a cough. But the Reverend clearly recognized her familiar symptoms and appeared at her side in an instant.
He took the child from her and wrapped his long arm around her waist. Grace knew she was showing weakness by leaning into him, but she held on anyway. She looked into the wild red sun dissected by the black horizon. Was it happening again? Her knees buckled slightly as the vibrations in her brain persisted.
She glanced back toward the house and was not surprised to see Mai Lin appear on the front porch. Her amah had an uncanny way of knowing when Grace needed her. She squeezed her husband's arm, and he looked down at her strangely. Had she called out to Mai Lin, was that why her servant had come outside?
Grace swayed as the sunset pulled her gaze toward it. She stared into that bloody ball and saw red in a Chinese chamber pot, red on her linen nightgown. Her knees gave way, but the Reverend kept her upright and held her tight to his side. Twice Mai Lin had come to her in the middle of the night when Grace had needed her most. The old woman had rubbed ointments and herbs into her skin, swinging incense to calm her. Grace had survived, although her two unborn babies had not, but the Reverend was correct. It had all been too much for even a sturdy Midwestern girl.
Grace gripped him now in hopes that his unwavering stance would stop the