Chapter 50

May Bailey to Jessie Buchanan May 3, 1938

After a long night of anger and recriminations, the sun has well and truly come out. That Grace and Van have made up their quarrel and are again happy together is reason enough to rejoice. As we all relaxed after supper, Van mentioned, in a moment of enthusiasm, that there was nothing he wouldn't do for Grace. I immediately knew from Grace's mischievous smile that he might soon regret his rash words. She spoke one word. "Nothing?"

Van roundly affirmed his statement. Grace's smile widened alarmingly. "In that case, there is one little thing that would make me very happy."

Van was appalled at what Grace asked, but there was no escape. He manfully accepted his fate and went to fetch a certain item from the basement. I was impressed that after all the substantial meals Van had been served in this house, the shining armor still fit. It was a shame that his brother wasn't there to see him in it.

The poor boy was mortally embarrassed, especially after Grace insisted on taking photographs. Van tried to retaliate by deliberately striking the most shamelessly theatrical attitudes he could think of. He thrust his jaw out like the bucket of a steam shovel. He clasped his gauntleted left hand to his chest plate with a loud clang at which point the visor fell over his face. His suggestion that he looked perfect and was now ready to be photographed did not move Grace to mercy. She simply gestured to him to lift his visor and, failing to repress a smile, remarked, "you don't get out of it that easily."

Unfortunately, while raising his broadsword high, several small pieces of plaster and a shower of dust fell on his head from where he had accidentally stabbed the ceiling. Grace caught the whole scene on his Leica. It is still hard to believe that there is actually a camera that can capture motion as anything but a blur.

After a few less destructive poses, Van started to relax. Grace even got a laugh out of him before the first snap of the shutter after the dust and plaster were cleaned up by asking him to say "'God for Harry, England and St. George.'"

In the last few photographs, after the clowning and discomfort were over, something uncanny happened. Grace noticed it too and said as much to me. Just standing there straight and tall, an unpretentious strength beneath his weary smile, he looked absolutely natural in his armor. I remembered that he had once mentioned in a discussion of his family history-his true family history-that his ancestor, the Hon. Sir Lawrence Marshall, had fought with Henry V at Harfleur and, later, at Agincourt.

A chill went up and down my spine. After the bloody wars I have seen in my lifetime, I have often feared that chivalry is simply a myth concocted to put a pleasing face on grim, heartless carnage. However, when I remember what Van has done for the sake of his conscience and the woman he loves, I can't help but wonder if there may, perhaps, be a grain of truth in it.

Shortly afterwards, Bob phoned with the news that made this one of the happiest days of my life. I know that it will thrill you as much as it did me. This morning, at 9:00, Diana gave birth to a boy whom she and Bob named James Howard Bailey. The middle name honors Diana's parents. Both she and Bob are overjoyed at the new addition to their family.

I suppose that now that Diana has given me a new grandchild it is time to consider burying once and for all any recriminations about her role in Bob's divorce. I will never approve of her past behavior, but if she proves a loving mother to her child as she has a loving wife to her husband, it would be wrong not to accept these actions as reasonable atonement.

From the Memoirs of Grace Bailey -

As usual, Will Lane was getting off the night shift at the mine just as Mother and I were coming in to work at the office. As usual, I stopped to exchange greetings and have a brief word with him. He grimaced when I asked him how things are going between him and Eileen Sawyer. "Eileen is an angel, but her brother Mark doesn't like her seeing me. He says she can do better than a useless cripple living on your family's charity."

I was pretty sure Mark Sawyer meant every ugly word of his disgusting comment. I was also pretty sure that there was more to it than that. "You mean he doesn't want to lose the salary she brings in working for the Yuens at their laundry if she marries you."

"All those nights he spends at the roadhouse do cost money," he reluctantly agreed. 'Not that Eileen and I are ready for marriage yet."

I told him that he could do worse for a bride when they were ready, and he agreed. Eileen was a terrific girl. At that point, I changed the subject. "There's something that I've been wanting to ask you."

Will looked at me attentively. I explained that I know that he and Van were good soldiers. I know they fought bravely and for a worthy cause. However, I also know that they lost almost every battle. "I want to believe that next time will be different, but the longer this war drags on, the harder it becomes. Do you really believe that Van will make any difference by going back?"

Will stood lost in thought for a long moment. Then he spoke. "He'll make a difference to the men in his squad. The Spanish in the battalion didn't call him El Roble just because he's over six feet tall and has broad shoulders. He was also as steady as an oak. All of us under him knew that if he ordered us into a fight, he'd be there with us no matter how hard it got. If we got into trouble, we could count on him to risk anything help us. If that weren't true, I wouldn't be standing here talking to you today."

Will paused for a moment, his gaze distant. Then he looked into my eyes with firm certainty. "Your husband is the kind of leader men would fight for even at the gates of hell because they know he'd do the same for them." His lips spread thinly in a rueful smile. "If I had my right arm again and he asked me to follow him back to Spain … I'm not sure that I wouldn't."

Next Week: The man Van was. Grace's new nephew. Recompense. Soldier's life.