their son but did not say so, for she feared she might have to choke back tears. She was grateful for so much, even in the midst of such tragedy. Pain shot up her spine again, and it took all her concentration not to have her smile collapse into a grimace.
"Do you hear those chimes?" he asked as they rose higher up the hillside. "Those used to emanate from a temple, but now they toll in the tower of our newest little chapel. Can you imagine the joy it must bring to the deprived coolie after a long day of work?"
She smiled on but still could not speak as she witnessed her husband of old returning to her. He appeared quite joyous and gay out here. Grace couldn't help wondering if she would have to become itinerant as well to enjoy his fine company.
Sixteen
A t nightfall, they entered a desolate village where the Reverend intended for them to spend the night. The sole, rutted road led to an inn where a toothless innkeeper greeted them. He wiped his dirty hands upon his apron and trotted forward from his hovel. The man had his barefoot son lead their donkey drivers and animals to a stable while he called back through the open door of the inn for his wife to prepare mein for their supper.
"Minister John Wesley returns!" the innkeeper said with a hollow grin. He gathered the Reverend's hands into his own and shook them vigorously.
As the Reverend clutched the man's shoulder and squeezed, Grace could hardly believe the innkeeper had called her husband by his given name. Standing nearby, Ahcho had noticed it, too, and looked ready to reprimand the fellow, but the Reverend carried on with introductions as if it were most expected. John Wesley: how unheard-of. Since his arrival in China when he was placed in charge of the mission, not a soul had spoken to her husband so familiarly, not even she.
Hunched and sallow, the innkeeper nonetheless seemed the picture of contentedness as he motioned for them all to sit at a rough table outside his door. His scrawny wife appeared after a few moments and bowed, but when she saw that the Reverend had brought his pregnant wife, she lost all manners and actually clapped the Reverend on the back.
Mai Lin spit her betel-quid juice into the dust and Ahcho shook his head, but Grace frowned at them both, and they kept their comments to themselves. A pleasant smile remained across Grace's lips, although she could not understand a word the couple said in their local dialect. She was determined to be gracious under these difficult circumstances, but when the innkeeper's wife pointed at her belly and made obscenelooking gestures, Grace hopped to her feet.
"She is only expressing her excitement for us about the unborn child," the Reverend explained.
The innkeeper's wife muttered something that made Mai Lin hobble to her feet, too.
"It's all right, Mai Lin," Grace said. "The poor wretch doesn't know any better."
Apparently, however, the innkeeper's wife knew enough Mandarin to grasp Grace's comment, for when she brought out the bowls of noodles, Grace's portion was noticeably smaller than the others. She did not mind, for she had little appetite anymore.
After supper, when there was still some light left from the setting sun, the innkeeper escorted the Reverend and Grace to the barn of a recent convert. On the short stroll through the hamlet, they saw no one, although at mealtime whole families would normally have been out in the streets. The Chinese had a habit of sitting on their haunches in their doorways and scooping mush from bowls into their mouths with chopsticks. But here, Grace saw no cooking fires and no greedy mouths. No younger adults at all, just elders and children leaning listlessly against doorways, peering out with blank eyes. The innkeeper confirmed that every able-bodied worker from this hamlet had gone to the city in search of employment.
"Obviously, the fields are withered," the Reverend whispered to her. "You notice no animals in sight. No dogs or even rats. Everything has been caught and eaten."
She took his arm to keep herself from shuddering. At seven months pregnant, her steps were necessarily slow, but he did not seem to mind. The cramping in her belly had subsided, yet she did not dare move too quickly.
At a crumbling barn near the edge of the village, a man far older and even more bedraggled-looking than the innkeeper stepped forward and embraced the Reverend.