Chapter 28
From the Memoirs of Grace Bailey -
The approach of spring was a time of plans for the future. I planned for a new life with my husband. Maisie studied to be a doctor. … My brother looked forward to approaching fatherhood. Mother took thought as to who her successor as president of the Silverdome Mining Company should be. … In Spain, the future of the Republic was very much in doubt. Van's comrades in the International Brigades and their allies in the regular army tried to regroup after the loss of Teruel. Franco and his fascist allies prepared to deal a potential death blow to the Republic.
Grace Mainwaring to Sally Henry February 28, 1938
… Will Lane was getting off work at the mine just as I was arriving to work at the mine office. I felt sorry for him. Here I was as fresh as a daisy while he was stifling a yawn. It must be strange to get your sleep during the day when everybody else is up and working. I asked Will how things were going with his new job. He admitted that the long nights took some getting used to, but after all the battlefields he's been on, he kind of likes the peace and quiet. It's nice to be able to stand up and look at the stars without having to worry about being shot by a sniper. Will asked after Van. I assured him that Van was coming home soon and I was looking forward to seeing him again.
… I teased him by asking if that was Winnie Campbell I saw him talking with in front of Mr. Greeley's Grocery the other day. He admitted that it was but said that I shouldn't make too much of it. She just wanted to hear stories about Spain. He complained that girls are either repelled by his split hook or throw themselves at him because they think that he's some kind of war hero out of a service picture. Could I see him as Ralph Graves or William Haines? I had to admit that I couldn't. Jimmy Stewart maybe.
I miss the movies. Now that I'm working three jobs and serving as president of the Friends of the Mac-Paps, I don't go as much as I used to. Will complained that all he wanted was someone who could see him and care for him for who he is, an ordinary guy who wants a sweet, honest girl to share his life and build a family with. I encouraged him to keep looking. There are more sweet, honest girls than he thinks that want a sweet, honest guy for the same reason.
From the Journal of Honey Sutton March 1, 1938
I can hardly believe that my little boy will be going to university next fall. It seems like hardly any time has gone by since Hub was a tiny baby with powerful lungs. I can still hear him screaming to be fed while I was desperately trying to get some sleep so that I could help Jack in the hardware store the next morning. Still, he looked so beautiful when he finally settled down and lay in his crib, his tiny eyelids closed and his breathing soft and even.
I think that Fr. Fitzroy is right in recommending that Hub take courses at both the University of Toronto and St. Augustine's Seminary. He should have a taste of the life of a university student before he commits to studying for the priesthood full time. I am glad that Fr. Fitzroy's cousin-also Fr. Fitzroy-is a chaplain at the University of Toronto and will be available to offer spiritual guidance.
… I hate to see Max so troubled by Grace's suggestions about how to improve A Miner's Son. Grace would have to be blind not to realize that the hero's brother is based on Max's brother Del. However, I had no idea that when they were keeping company Del told Grace so much about his and Max's childhood. Apparently, she knows that unlike Max, Del refused to forgive their father when he tried to reconcile with his sons before the liver damage from his drinking finally killed him. He didn't even attend the funeral.
I have to agree with Max that Grace is right in thinking that this is the logical climax of A Miner's Son. However, she is also right in thinking that it wouldn't be fair to Del to dramatize something like that about him on a public stage, even if the name of the character is different. In the end, Max put the manuscript in a trunk to let it rest for a while. As he closed the lid, he told me, "Right now, I'm trying to be a mayor, a principal, and a teacher. Perhaps if I come back to A Miner's Son when I can devote more time to it, I can find a fresh approach."
Max went silent and stared out the window into the night. I knew that he was thinking about his brother somewhere out there in the darkness that covered Canada like a blanket. Was he sleeping in a boxcar or by a campfire in a hobo jungle? Was he sick or hungry? I knew that Max would worry for as long as these questions remained unanswered.
May Bailey to Jessie Buchanan March 2, 1938
Both Grace and Maisie couldn't be happier that Juanita is available to nurse Van when he returns to this side of the Atlantic. All of us know that he couldn't be in better hands. Juanita may be a domineering taskmistress, but I can't deny that I owe my recovery from my stroke in large part to her skill and care.
From the Memoirs of Grace Bailey -
The whole family was at the station with me to await Van's arrival along with the Lanes and the Schmitzes. All my worst doubts and fears paraded themselves through my imagination. Outwardly, I may have seemed calm and collected, but inwardly I was shaking like a sapling in a hurricane. When the train finally pulled in, I scanned the cars anxiously for any sign of Van. Then, he emerged from the third car.
I could feel my breath drawing in from the shock. He was thinner than I remembered. Even shadowed by the brim of his fedora, I could see that the top half of his left ear was pulped and scarred. The hair above it had grown back patchily. I could just make out a vivid red scar running lengthwise.
Van looked around the station platform. My heart sank as he looked right at me for a second but showed no sign of recognition. Then his gaze swept on until he looked back at his brother, Lionel Marshall, who was standing directly behind him next to Juanita Bascomb who exuded crispness and competence in her starched nurse's uniform. Lionel looked like a more streamlined and aristocratic version of Van. They exchanged words that none of us could hear.
Hub and Henry, on their mother's instructions, reached them and took their bags. Then, Van began to descend the steps to the platform. He walked with a certain hesitation. His brother kept his hand gripped on his right arm. His eyes still scanned the crowd on the platform, and I remembered the reports from his doctors about his blurred vision. I rushed towards him from out of the crowd and called to him.
He tried to run towards me but stopped suddenly and spat out an agonized oath. His head and shoulders hunched as though suffering a seizure. His hands flew to his head as though to keep it from falling to pieces. For about ten seconds, as I stood in front of him and his brother placed his hands on his shoulders, his head was bowed with pain. Lionel reproached him for being so careless. The doctor told him not to make sudden movements.
Then my husband slowly looked up at me. His gaze was slightly unfocused, but his smile was beautiful. "It's alright. The headaches and the dizziness are getting better. So is my eyesight." A look of recognition and delight came onto his face as he sniffed curiously. "You remembered the perfume."
"Joy." I wanted to add a lighter note, perhaps a thank you to heaven for Jean Patou introducing the fragrance but could only stand there speechless.
Van slowly took me in his arms and kissed me so tenderly that I could feel the tears spring to my eyes. "I won't ever let you go again, Grace."
I looked up at him and said the only thing I could. "I don't want you to. Not ever."
He kissed me again. There was no more fear, no more anxiety. We were both where we belonged for that moment and hopefully for a lifetime. As I felt my husband's lips on mine, there was only one thought. This was the man I loved and who loved me.
From the Journal of Honey Sutton March 6, 1938
… We all returned home where Grace, Toppy, and I began to prepare Sunday dinner while, at Juanita's and his brother's insistence, Van rested in the guest bedroom. I hadn't seen Grace so happy in a long time. She was actually humming "You're the Cream in My Coffee" as she sliced the carrots for her roast beef.
Next Week: Lionel Marshall's Story. Comrades reunited.