Chapter Twenty-Six
From the Memoirs of Grace Bailey -
Dr. Barlow listened gravely as I recounted what I knew about Van's wound. He warned me that he couldn't diagnose a patient he hasn't seen. "We don't know how much damage was done. All I can say is that the fact that he made it all the way to Benicassim may be an encouraging sign."
I was afraid that the hope I held might turn to bleak disappointment, but I couldn't abandon it. "Is there any chance he'll recover?"
"I don't know. However, I have seen patients with head injuries that I thought for certain would kill or incapacitate them make full recoveries. I hope that's the case here. All I can say is don't give up on him."
Shame and regret rose in me like a swift tide as I thought of the desolate look on Van's face when he left to join the International Brigades after my betrayal of him. "I gave up on Van once, Dr. Barlow. Never again."
May Bailey to Jessie Buchanan February 18, 1938
… It was thoughtful of Maisie to go through Dr. Barlow's medical journals for cases of successful recoveries from head injuries or traumatic brain injuries as the medical profession calls them. Grace needs the encouragement after the report she received two days ago. That Van was in a coma, even briefly is alarming. So are the symptoms he has been experiencing-temporary amnesia, blurred vision, headaches, dizziness, nausea, and strong sensitivity to light and sound.
Pearl Disher's false sympathy for Grace when she buttonholed us as we exited the New Bedford Inn Tearoom today didn't help. She went on and on in gruesome detail about her cousin's symptoms when he tripped on the sidewalk while running to watch a fire and hit his head on a lamppost. Of course, he was never the same afterwards, but she was sure that the effects of Van's wound weren't anywhere near that bad.
I do have to give Grace credit. Her face was pale as marble and every muscle was tense with anxiety, but she refused to let her emotions overwhelm her as Pearl no doubt hoped they would. Instead, she curtly agreed that Van's symptoms probably weren't anywhere near as bad as those of Pearl's unfortunate cousin and thanked her for her concern. I would have asked her if there wasn't some carrion somewhere that she should be circling, but Grace has always been a nicer person than I am.
We walked outside and down the sidewalk. Just before we reached CRNB, Grace stopped and turned around. She looked at me like a child who couldn't understand how the world could be so cruel. She spoke to me in a small, subdued voice. "I'm frightened, Mother."
Seeing Grace in such distress wrung my heart. I wanted to put a hand on her shoulder as I might have had we been in the privacy of our home, but we were on a public sidewalk. Instead, I reminded her of how frightened we both were when Bob was so badly wounded at Passchendaele. He still came home on medical leave and recovered enough to marry Toppy and return to his regiment. I dried the tears that welled up in Grace's eyes with my handkerchief and told her that I was sure that Van would come back to her. God grant that I wasn't giving her false hope.
From the Journal of Honey Sutton February 25, 1938
I have been nerving myself up to speak to Grace ever since the news came that Van is being given a medical discharge from the International Brigades and will be coming home as soon as his wounds heal enough to make that possible. As a new member of the sisterhood of the wives of ex-soldiers, there are things she needs to know to expect. Fortunately, she broached the subject herself today. We had lunch in the apartment, so we were able to talk alone.
After a little chit chat, Grace mentioned that when her brother Jack came home from the war, his room was next to hers and the wall separating them was thin. "I could hear him tossing and screaming when he had nightmares. The second time it happened I went into his room and asked him what was wrong. He told me that I shouldn't worry, that it was something he had to get through on his own. The next day, he moved into the guest room where I couldn't hear him. That night, I listened outside the door and heard more nightmares. I told Mother. Jack wouldn't talk to her about it either. Was he any better after you were married?"
I was pretty sure that I saw what Grace was getting at. "Is this a roundabout way of asking what to expect when Van comes home?"
Grace looked at me anxiously. "Yes. I know that after a year of war, he won't be the same person he was when he left for Spain. I'm not the person I was when he left. I was hurting then from what he did to me. I'm sure he was hurting from what I did to him, but we knew that we loved each other. Will our love still be the same or will it have changed like we have?"
I smiled. "Love always changes. Sometimes it fades, but, if it's true, it only deepens like it did between your brother and me. Like it does between me and Max. I think that's the kind of love you and Van have."
"I hope so. I hope what we have isn't something that looks good in a letter but can't survive face to face. Van and I have been apart for so long. I just hope we can find each other again."
"I'm sure you will. You'll have adjustments and compromises to make, but you and Van have already made some big ones. I'm not worried."
Grace looked at me thoughtfully. "Speaking of adjustments, were my brother's nightmares any better when you married him?"
"I don't know if they were as bad as when he first came home. I wasn't there. They were still pretty bad. He had them two or three times a week. It took months before he started having fewer of them."
"When did they stop?"
"They didn't. He was down to one or two a month by the time we came to New Bedford." I knew I shouldn't have said what I did next as soon as I said it, but I couldn't stop myself. The subject was just too sensitive. "So was Max before he got involved with your war effort. Now he has nightmares once, sometimes twice, a week, especially after he talks with Will Lane."
Grace looked stricken. "I'm sorry. I should have thought … ."
I held up my hand. "No, I'm sorry. You've had a lot on your mind and I'm not being fair. You once told me that Max is an adult making his own decisions. You were right. What he did for the Republic and for Will Lane was his responsibility and not yours. It's just frightening to see your husband wake up screaming in the night and to feel him shaking in your arms."
The look Grace wore was bleak. "I suppose it is. Maybe risking that was Max's decision but risking it with him wasn't yours. I'm sorry."
I couldn't help but smile. "I agreed to share everything with Max including risks the moment I said 'I do'. Max agreed to do the same for me and he has, especially when I was in the sanatorium and he looked after the kids. That's what marriage is all about."
Grace responded with a weak smile. "I hope Van and I can be like that someday. It's what we were building towards at first, but then we almost destroyed our marriage between us and he's been away at war for over a year. …"
Grace let the sentence trail off. I tried to reassure her that she and Van would be fine. I was sure of it. I think I cheered Grace up a little, but she's had so many disappointments in her life. She always hopes for the best, but sometimes it isn't easy for her to believe that it will happen.
… Max, the children, and I were eating supper when we were interrupted by a frantic hammering on the door. It was Grace carrying a familiar sheaf of paper, Max's second draft of Miner's Son. A sales representative for a furniture factory had picked it up at Union Station but hadn't been able to get back there to inquire about it until a week later. Grace had mentioned her name and the town where she lived when she had called the station trying to find the manuscript. That was enough information for the sales representative to track down her address and mail the manuscript to her. Max was overjoyed. He gave Grace a disbelieving smile and thanked her. "It's amazing how sometimes something you thought was lost comes back to you."
In Two Weeks: Hospital Days. Shopping at the Pawnshop.
