beyond the wall that surrounded the mission compound. The yellow dust of the desert reflected the late-afternoon light. All that golden brightness hid the roughness of the roads and the dryness of the lone river. It was a terrible terrain, inhospitable and cruel. And yet her husband was out there somewhere in the vast expanse of desolate land once again. Grace, who normally studied the horizon for hours, couldn't bear to look at it for another moment. She shut her eyes and tried to feel the beating of her baby's heart against her own. It was the one solid thing she knew anymore.
Twenty-one
G race half woke again to the sound of a child crying and fell back asleep. When she heard it for a second time quite a bit later, she lifted her head from the pillow. The wooden shutters were drawn, so she assumed it was nighttime. She heard soft footsteps in the hall and then weeping, this time not a child's, but a woman's weak sobs. For once, Grace could tell that the sounds were real and not in her dreams. She was grateful to notice the difference.
She pulled the covers away and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She had walked only twice in the six weeks since Rose had been born and both times with Ahcho holding her up to keep her from falling. She put her bare feet onto the cool floorboards now and felt grateful that her body didn't crumple under her weight. In the corner, Mai Lin snored in her cot with Baby Rose asleep on a low mattress beside her.
Grace didn't bother with her silk robe, which lay on the chaise longue. She inched forward, trying not to concentrate too hard on each step for fear of jinxing herself. She thought only of the crying that continued from beyond her door.
She made her way across the room without stumbling and held tightly to the handle as she tried to regain her strength. Her legs felt as heavy as bags of desert sand. She could feel her blood coursing slowly through her veins. It was a strange sensation to notice something that normally went unnoticed. A steady pumping and whirring sound had replaced the nervous humming vibrations that she had grown accustomed to for so long.
Grace had overheard Doc Hemingway explaining her condition to the Reverend. After the birth, she remained in grave danger still of dying from blood loss. It would take months for her body to fully recover. Slowly, and with the help of iron-rich foods, she would make enough new red blood to be strong again, although finding decent food was nearly impossible now.
Without the proper amount of blood in her body, Grace was prone to coldness and to an annoying swishing sound in her ears that threatened to take over her entire self. She felt surrounded by the sensation of blood as it propelled itself through her. She thought it odd that she now noticed the coursing of blood precisely because of a lack of it. There wasn't enough life in her veins, so she throbbed all over with what little was left.
She opened the door and waited for her light-headedness to subside. Then she commenced to inch forward again, holding on to the banister at the top of the stairs. The crying seemed to be coming from Daisy's bedroom at the end of the hall. Grace stopped before the slightly opened door and paused before entering.
As she stood, she looked down at her pale bare feet and flimsy gown. A shaft of light coursing through the moon window at the end of the hallway shone on her full figure under the thin, white cotton. She should have put on her robe, she realized, but it was too late now that she had come this far. Her body looked foreign to her— plump and bent and sagging under the weight of all she had been through. Her breasts hung like overripe fruit, and she could not imagine anyone seeing her and feeling anything but sorry. Like a much older woman, she had nothing to hide anymore. Decorum or custom or female vanity was lost on a body that had endured too much. She was no longer the girl whose primary concern had been to appear appropriate and bright in the face of the future. The Martins would have to forgive her. The crying was what mattered. Grace understood that now. Everything else was immaterial.
She pushed open