them again for encouraging his wife to convalesce in their home. He said he was most grateful. But then, without further explanation, he pushed open the screen door and hurried off the veranda into the gray late-winter afternoon. Mai Lin watched from the second floor as the Martins followed him with their eyes.
"Where on earth did he get that hat?" Mildred Watson asked.
Her bald husband with a hawk's nose shook his head. "When he finally shed the animal hide, I thought he might be regaining his senses."
"You're too patient, Reverend Martin. That man is head of the mission in name only."
"Let's not forget that he lost his son not yet a year ago."
"Others have lost children as well. You need to bring it up with the mission board back home. We must have strong leadership here, not some half native in disreputable garb."
Mai Lin had to restrain herself from spitting betel quid onto Mrs. Martin's prematurely silver bun. The Reverend Martin put his arm around his wife and tried to kiss her temple, but she brushed him away and went to her young daughter, who was howling like a wild animal from the parlor. Mrs. Martin's daughter was a lousy specimen, too, Mai Lin thought, nothing like the good girl, Rose Baby.
Twenty
G race's children came to her in a swirl of dust and sunlight. Motes of light floated behind her closed eyelids, and when she opened them the sun danced low over the sill before her, bringing with it the children. She thought she heard them crying. She dozed and dreamed and woke again and heard them crying again, this time from quite close. She squinted down at the soft bundle beside her. Rose. Her Rose. Grace's heart welled up, but her arms were too tired to lift the baby to her breast.
"Mai Lin," she whispered.
The old woman was there, just where she was needed. Grace had never known anyone so reliable. Something cool wetted her lips, and another cool cloth covered her brow. The heat that flamed up at the touch of Mai Lin's fingers startled Grace. She realized she must be terribly ill. That wouldn't do. She pushed herself up in her bed and said, "I shall feed my daughter now."
"Rose Baby drinks goat milk and tea I combine for her. Reverend brought it to your daughter three days ago."
"I've been sleeping all that time?"
"Off and on," Mai Lin said as she withdrew the cloth from Grace's forehead and replaced it with another one.
"But I want to nurse her, Mai Lin. I must."
"If Mistress insists, but you must eat, too."
Mai Lin lifted the baby, pulled back Grace's gown, and helped put the child's mouth to her mother's nipple. The baby rooted and mewed. Grace tipped back her head against the pillow and let out a surprising laugh. The pull of the infant's mouth on her tender skin sent a shooting pain through her, but she didn't mind. Her daughter was alive. And she was alive.
Mai Lin spooned tea into Grace's mouth and then a mash of beans and something else she didn't recognize. She no longer cared for food except that she knew she must eat it to keep up her strength for the sake of the baby. After another sip, she felt woozy again and wanted to sleep but made herself swallow more.
The baby pulled back her tiny head covered in thin, pale hair and let out a high-pitched howl. Grace fumbled with her breast and offered it again, but the infant's body stiffened as she cried, her face turning scarlet.
"What have I done wrong?" Grace asked. "Why won't she take it?"
"Mother's milk is not enough for her," Mai Lin said. "You hold Rose Baby in your arms. That is better."
Mai Lin covered Grace's chest and spooned her another mouthful. She then lifted Rose into her mistress's arms and showed her how to feed her daughter from a strange-looking contraption that resembled an urn with a hard spout. As unappealing as the setup seemed, Rose drank the milky liquid.
"Have we nothing with a softer teat?" Grace asked. "The poor girl has to suck on hard ceramic. This is terrible. I can't even feed my own child properly."
Grace began to weep so suddenly, she shocked herself. As she cried, her chest grew tighter and she began to cough. She had grown accustomed to the endless paroxysms, but now she could hardly bear the pain they caused to her tender female parts and to her aching ribs. Her entire