After a minute, Billy asked very quietly, “And what would that be? Is there something you haven’t told me?”

“Oh no, nothing that should upset you. It’s only. . .” How could she put into words what was nothing more than vague restless uncertainties? “I don’t know. Maybe I’m being childish. But sometimes. . .” Her words trailed off.

“Sometimes what?” Billy’s voice was low and insistent.

She threw her hands up. “Sometimes I feel like there’s a vast emptiness inside me. And I don’t know how to fill it.” There she’d said it, but the words sounded hollow and silly in her ears.

Billy remained silent so long, she thought he had decided to ignore her, until he said in a low, deep voice, “Sometimes I feel empty too. But I found it goes away if I go do something I enjoy.”

She stared into the darkness. Doing things only made her feel worse. Sure she would ignore the feeling, but the only time she really felt better was in church. “Remember when Reverend Albright talked about being friends with God?”

“Vaguely.”

“Maybe that’s what I need.”

Again, her words met a long silence. Then Billy sighed. “If it works for you, then go for it.”

“But that’s it, don’t you see? I don’t know if it would work for me, and besides, I don’t even know what ‘it’ is.”

“Let me see if I can remember what he said. I know he talked about how God made a way for us to be right with Him.”

“Yes, yes. Salvation through faith in Jesus. I know that. But there’s more. I know there is. Nellie talks like there is.” She rose on her elbow and pressed her palm to Billy’s chest as if trying to force the answers she needed from him. “But what is that something more?”

He covered her hands with his. “Let me think. Hmm. Didn’t the reverend say something about forgiveness being a part of it? That part of it is peace with God, and another part of it was the peace of God.”

She sank back on the blanket. “I guess I’ll never have that part of it.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem possible.”

“Forget it for now. I’m sure the answer will come sooner or later. Right now I need some sleep, and so do you.” He pulled her close. “Close those big blue eyes and settle down.”

She snuggled close, not expecting sleep to come, but it claimed her immediately.

Billy waited in the laneway as Grace drove into the yard.

“Home, sweet home,” he said as she stopped the engine of the car and sat waiting for the cloud of dust to pass before she pulled the leather helmet from her head and shook her curls free.

“I don’t know if I’m sorry or glad it’s over,” she said. “Seems more like we’re saying good-bye than hello.”

Billy, understanding that she meant it was hard to put the past month behind her, nodded. “The summer season is over. We’ve been across most of the southern part of the province and. . .” He shook his pockets. “We got enough money to last us a few more months. It’s time we settled down.”

She wanted to ask why. “Settling down sounds so—”

“Responsible?”

She laughed. “Do I sound like I’m trying to avoid accepting responsibility?”

He pulled her into his arms. “Not really. You’ve grown up a lot these past few months.” He grinned down at her. “Wouldn’t your father be surprised to see how much you’ve changed?” His expression sobered. “What do you tell him in the letters you send?”

“Mostly I tell him how I’m such a good cook, how we traveled across the province on ‘business,’ and what the country is like.” She shook her head. “He’d never believe I’m capable of driving a car and handling the appointments and cooking out of doors.” She laughed. “I can hardly believe it myself.”

“You’re a fine worker, Gracie One.”

She laughed. “At least I’m still number one, though sometimes I wonder.”

He kissed her nose. “Never wonder. You’ll always be number one.”

Tears choked at her throat at the tenderness in his voice.

“It’s too bad you don’t make friends with Gracie Two though.” He leaned back to look in her face. “Now that would be a perfect ending to our travels.”

“What?”

“Let me take you flying.”

She wanted to say no. How many times had her heart caught in her throat as she watched him take others flying and heard the cough in the engine? She’d almost died of fright when the engine stalled as he turned loops at the show at Rose Creek. But he looked so eager. How could she refuse him? Finally, she nodded.

“Whoopee!” he yelled.

“Spoken like a true Albertan.” She’d heard the cry repeated time and again as they crisscrossed the province.

“You won’t regret this. I promise you. There is nothing like the thrill of looking down. It gives you a different perspective on everything.”

“Just get me down safely,” she muttered, following him to the airplane. He boosted her up so she could crawl into the forward seat, then he scrambled into the back one.

A few minutes later they were airborne. Grace looked down on the house and yard, amazed at how neat they looked from the air. The air rushed past her face. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. A rush of joy swept over her at the sense of freedom, and she laughed. She turned to face Billy. He grinned widely, then pointed downward.

Nellie and Tom stood beside their house, faces upturned. Grace waved madly. She could see their wide grins.

Billy turned their course toward town. They swept over it twice as Grace watched, fascinated at the activity below them. Billy was right. Life held a whole different perspective from up here.

He tapped her shoulder, and she turned to look back at him. He pointed to the south. “The river,” he mouthed.

She nodded, and they skimmed toward the dark green line of trees that marked Red Deer River. Soon they looked down on thick treetops and flashing water. This must be what peace feels like, she thought. A rush of air that cleanses one’s thoughts; a distance that gives perspective; and a view that allows one to see far beyond the tiny spot of earth where one’s feet are planted. When Billy turned the plane homeward, she sighed, wishing they could go on forever.

The engine coughed. Grace stiffened, turning to watch Billy. He pulled at something in the cockpit, then gave her a reassuring grin and a thumb’s-up sign. She turned back to watching the scenery speed by. Again the engine stuttered. She forced herself to relax. She’d heard the same sound a dozen times while standing on the ground. Billy had always landed safely. But when the engine coughed again and almost died, she gripped the frame of the airplane so hard her palms hurt.

The engine coughed again and died, the sudden quiet so intense she could hear every heartbeat thundering in her chest. They hung in space.

She turned to Billy. “What’s the matter?” Her shouted words seemed obscenely loud.

Billy didn’t look up from his concentration on the controls. “Don’t worry. I’ll get it going again.”

But they were falling. The air rushed past her. She moaned. “I knew I shouldn’t fly,” she muttered.

“Duck down into the cargo space.”

She heard his words; she knew what each meant; but she couldn’t connect to them. She sat frozen, her hands locked in place.

“Grace.” Billy’s voice rang through her fear. “I’m going to bring her in, but it will be a little rough. I need you to crawl into that space at your feet.”

She nodded. But still she couldn’t make herself move.

Billy leaned forward to push on her head, but she could no more let go of her death grip than she could fly. She moaned. Wrong choice of words.

A squeal snaked through Grace’s clenched teeth as the ground raced up to meet them. They touched down with a thud that jerked through her arms and bolted into her shoulder joints. Something snapped with the loud, angry sound of metal crumpling. The airplane spun to the left, throwing Grace against the metal frame. Searing pain ripped through her side. Agony made her loosen her grip, and she clutched at her side. A tree snapped before the plowing nose. The severed branch shot toward Grace.

Grace ached all over. Cautiously, she opened her eyes, expecting to be in the airplane. Her eyes widened at the sight of her own bedroom.

Billy appeared in her line of vision. “Thank God you’re awake. Thank God you’re okay.”

She moaned. She felt far from okay. Slowly she tested each limb and found them all attached and working. “My head hurts.” Her tongue felt like an old rubber boot.

“You have a cut above your ear.”

She lifted a heavy arm to check and found a thick bandage. She touched it gently and moaned at the pain even her light touch brought. “Am I alright?”

“Pretty much.”

“How about you?”

He nodded. “A few bruises. Nothing to worry about.”

She couldn’t bring herself to ask about the plane.

“Gracie Two can be repaired.”

She heard his disappointment and voiced her own. “There goes the money we made over the summer.”

“It’s not that bad. I can do most of the work.”

A spasm of pain tore through her middle. She groaned and pressed her hands to her stomach. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Billy jerked around, somehow found a basin, and handed it to her.

She heaved up the contents of her stomach.

Billy took the basin out of the room. He returned with a wet cloth and sponged her face and hands.

Tears streamed from the outer corners of her eyes, dripping into her ears. “I feel awful.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. “Doc says you will for awhile.”

“You got the doctor?”

“You scared me half to death when you didn’t come to right away.”

She touched the bandage on her head again. “It’s just a bang.”

He nodded; his expression troubled.

“What is it?”

“Grace, why didn’t you tell me we were going to have a baby?”

“A baby?” She pressed her flattened hands across her stomach. “I’m going to have a baby?” She laughed. “I can’t believe it.”

“You didn’t know?”

She shook her head, grinning foolishly. “I wondered when Nellie said something about morning sickness, but I was only sick those few days when the house smelled so bad of mice. And my monthly business has always been so irregular.” His dark eyes were guarded. A cold shudder raced across her shoulders. She began to shiver. “The baby is alright, isn’t it?”

Billy’s shoulders slumped. He took her cold hands in his warm grasp. “Grace, you lost the baby.”

“No.” A vicious shudder raked her body. “No.” She pressed her hands to her face. A shrill keening filled the room. It went on a full minute before Grace understood it came from her.

Billy wrapped his hands around hers, but she jerked away, turning her face to the wall.

The keening continued as if from a source outside herself.

“Grace, stop it.” Billy’s voice was strained. “Stop it, I say.”

She took a deep breath, gritted her teeth; the sound ended.

“Now look at me.”

She turned her face toward him, but her eyes focused on a spot behind his eyes.

“We’ll be okay.”

Slowly she brought her gaze to him, seeing the pain and confusion in his eyes. But not feeling it. “I should never have gone flying.” She ground the words out past aching teeth. “I should have stayed in Toronto with your parents. I would have been safe there.”

Billy groaned. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. You know that.”

“I lost my baby.” She turned to the wall and pulled the covers to her chin.

Billy waited for a minute, two, three, then he moaned. “Don’t blame me, Gracie. Please don’t blame me.” When she didn’t respond, he left the room.

After his footsteps faded, Grace stared at the wall. Her eyelids felt stretched; her eyes way too large.

She didn’t want to think about what had happened—not about the accident, not about Billy, not about the baby. She didn’t want to feel anything. She forced her eyes shut. Her lungs hurt. She took a shaky breath and concentrated on relaxing. Shivering, she pulled the covers closer. Mercifully, exhaustion allowed her to sleep.

When she awoke, the room lay in dusky shadows.

“I brought you some tea.”

She nodded without looking at Billy. “Maybe later.” She knew he stood waiting for her to look at him or say something, but it was all she could do to keep her insides from shattering into a million fragments. If she saw her pain reflected in his eyes, she knew she would come undone. So she stared at nothing, said nothing.

With a muffled groan, Billy left the room.

Grace turned on her side and again let sleep hide the terrors.

She woke momentarily when Billy crawled in beside her. He said nothing to her, made no effort to put his arms around her. Instead, he turned his back and lay stiff.

She didn’t move a muscle. If only he would hold her and let her cry against him.

He was gone when she awoke the next morning, bright sunlight pouring in the window.

A suffocating ache welled up inside, threatening to choke her. She moaned, forcing it back, pressing her flattened palms to her stomach, trying to relieve the pain. But the pain did not dwell in her stomach. It swelled in her heart. It overwhelmed her in a flood. Sobbing quietly, she lay very still, tears soaking her pillow.

Sometime later, her tears spent, her insides hollow, she lay staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing, feeling nothing.

Billy returned at noon and brought in a tray with tea and biscuits. “Grace, you need to eat something.”

But she turned her back to him and did not answer.

Several times during the day, she heard him tiptoe to the bedroom. Each time she pretended to be asleep, but toward evening, he stood over the bed, waiting for her to open her eyes.

“I knew you weren’t sleeping.” He sighed. “You can’t pretend forever. You haven’t eaten anything all day. I’ve made some soup. I want you to eat a bit of it.”

He waited until she felt compelled to answer if only to get him to leave her alone. “I’m not hungry.”

“So eat only a little bit. It will give you strength.”

Strength for what? she wondered. To get up and make a mess of my life again?

“Grace.” His voice was stern. “You can’t let this beat you.”

Why not? she thought, but she only looked at him without blinking.

In the end, she took a few spoonfuls of the soup and drank some tea simply to avoid arguing.

Next morning, Billy stood at the side of the bed. “Are you getting up today, Grace?”

She opened heavy eyes and squinted at him. “I’m very tired,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Fine. You rest.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but Grace closed her eyes, too weary to care.

After awhile, she lost track of time, wanting nothing more than to escape into sleep where her thoughts could not bother her.

If only Billy wouldn’t keep coming in and out, she could sleep forever, she fumed, after yet another visit and an attempt to get her to eat.

“I heard about your troubles.”

Grace jerked around to stare at Willow.

“I brung you some things.” Her eyes, dark and steady, rested on Grace. “You be needing some healing.”

Tears flooded Grace’s eyes.

Willow stepped into the room. “I made my special tea for ya.” She set an open pot and a cup on the dresser. “But first, ya need to wash up. Whilst you sit yerself up, I’ll bring ya some water.”

Before Grace could voice her protest and explain she didn’t feel up to it, Willow turned from the room, returning almost immediately with a pan of water and a cloth. Leaning over, she wrapped a strong, warm arm behind Grace’s shoulders and pulled her forward.

“I’ll just put another pillow behind ya.” With gentle hands, she washed Grace’s face with the warm cloth, patting it dry. She washed each hand carefully.

Grace stared at her helplessly. “You don’t need to do this.”

“It’s what I’m best at; caring for the sick and hurting.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

Willow straightened and frowned. “And why would ya be not deserving a little human kindness?”

Grace shook her head, unable to speak.

Willow finished. “I lost three babies before I had my Zeke. Some babies come for but a moment. Their visit is so short we don’t even get to know them.” She sat at the edge of the bed, her gaze on a distant spot.

She had Grace’s attention, though Grace wondered if Willow had forgotten her in remembering her own pain and loss.

“There is no place on earth where I remember my lost babies except here.” She pressed a hand to her chest, then spun around to face Grace. “Your baby will always be there.” She nodded once. “And you will always miss her.”

A jolt raced through Grace’s body. “Her?”

Willow nodded as if that was all the explanation Grace needed. Again, her eyes focused on a place in her memories. “I named my babies. Sarah, Martha, and Joshua.”

Grace digested this of information, never questioning that Willow had known there were two girls and a boy. “I think I’d like to name my baby.”

Willow nodded.

Grace thought about it a moment. “I want to name the baby after my mother, Eleanor May.” She smiled. “Do you think my mother is holding my baby?”

Willow smiled. “Of course. Now I want ya to drink this tea.” She poured dark liquid from the pot and handed the cup to Grace. “This will be making ya feel right again.”

Grace sniffed at the brew, wrinkling her nose.

“Go ahead. It will help ya.”

Grace took a swallow and shuddered. “It doesn’t taste like it will make me feel better.”

“It will.”

Grace took three more gulps and paused. “I wish everything could be made right by a swallow or two of this stuff.”

Willow’s eyes narrowed. “Ya not be meaning the baby.”

Her face feeling stiff, Grace let her gaze slip away from Willow’s dark, knowing eyes. “I’ve said things to Billy I shouldn’t have,” she whispered. “I know it wasn’t his fault.” If blame was to be placed, it was her fault. For not refusing to fly with him, for not knowing she was pregnant, for being so incompetent.

Willow took the cup from her and pulled her into her arms. Grace sobbed against the thin shoulders as Willow patted her back and clucked comfortingly. “Crying is the best thing for ya,” she said as Grace’s sobs subsided.

Grace pulled away, laughing a little. “Then I guess I must be doing alright. It seems I’ve done nothing but cry these past days.”

Willow nodded. “There’s healing in tears. Women have that; men, they have to find another way.”

“Maybe you’re right.” She hadn’t given much thought to how Billy felt about the loss of the baby. He’d said nothing since that first day when he seemed more upset that she hadn’t told him than about the baby’s loss.

Willow stood, her hands on her hips. “It’s time ya be getting out of bed.”

Grace gaped at her. “Now?”

“It’s been long enough. The longer ya lay around, the harder it will be.” She pulled open a drawer. “What ya wanting to wear?”

It was easier to tell her than to argue, so Grace found herself helped into clean clothes.

“Now ya swing yer legs over the side and sit a mite. Ya might find yerself shaky for a spell.”

With Willow at her side, Grace did as instructed, clutching her head when it spun with dizziness.

Willow waited quietly, then took Grace’s arm. “Now ya walk to the sofa and sit.”

With legs quivering like saplings, Grace hobbled to the front room and sank to the sofa, sweat beading her brow, her breathing ragged.

“That’s fine. Now I’ve put some food in the cellar—roast chicken, potato salad, some fresh greens—all ya have to do is set it on the table.” She handed the cup of brew to Grace. “Finish this up. It’ll do ya good.” She waited for Grace to drain the cup and hand it to her. “Now I’ll be going. Ya’ll feel better every day and soon be right as ya can be.”

“Thank you, Willow.” Tears stung her eyes. “You’ve been so helpful.”

After Willow left, Grace sat on the sofa, wondering if her legs would carry her to the chair where she’d left a book. She grimaced. It was either that or return to bed, and suddenly the bedroom seemed stifling. Gritting her teeth, she pushed to her feet and hobbled to the chair, pausing as she retrieved the book, surprised at how steady her legs seemed. Willow had proved correct. Whatever she’d put into that bitter brew, Grace could already see improvement in her strength.

Engrossed in her book, she didn’t hear Billy enter the house until he stood before her. She slammed the book shut and stuck it behind the cushion.

“I’m glad to see you’re up. You are feeling better, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. Willow came over and made me some herbal tea. It seems to have helped.”

Billy nodded. “I’m glad.” He pulled the chair close and studied her carefully. “Grace, I. . .” He hesitated.

Grace held up a hand, having made up her mind to clear the air between them. “Billy, I don’t blame you for what happened. It was my fault entirely. I knew I shouldn’t go flying with you. It was only because I had watched you day after day and it looked like such fun.” She shrugged. “But I guess one of us has to keep their feet on the ground.” She hurried on while she had the strength, ignoring the wary look in his eyes. “And if I weren’t so stupid, I would have known I was going to have a baby.” She studied her hands.

Billy blew air over his lips. “Grace, why must you always blame yourself? Why can’t you see that life isn’t out to prove you incompetent or stupid? It isn’t your fault anymore than it’s mine. It was an accident. Pure and simple.”

He took her hands. “Gracie, look at me.” He waited until she complied. “You are not stupid. You are not to blame.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand why you feel this way about everything.”

“I don’t.” She wasn’t even sure what he was talking about, but it seemed best to deny it.

“Yes, you do. Like this book.” He retrieved it.

She looked down, trying to hide the blush she felt racing up her cheeks.

“See, you’re getting all hot and bothered.” He tipped her chin up with his finger. “Why do you try and hide your reading?”

She shook her head. How could she explain how guilty she felt when he caught her with a book? As if she didn’t have something more useful to do.

“I’m not going to scold you or question you about your work. Far as I’m concerned, you can do what you want about cooking and cleaning and all that sort of thing. I’m happy just having you here. I’m not looking for some sort of slave.”

She searched his eyes. Somehow she was certain he didn’t mean it. Not that she thought he wanted a slave, but she knew he would expect something from her besides being around for company. Finally, she shook her head. “I’m your wife. I’m supposed to do things.”

He sighed. “You do things enough. I don’t care if you make bread or buy it. I don’t care if you grow a garden or buy canned goods from Mr. Tunney. Do you think I care if you enjoy reading?” He shook her a little. “Can’t you see, I want you to be happy? I want you to enjoy doing things for me, not because you think I or someone else expects it of you.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that easy.”

He pushed to his feet. “It is if only you’d believe it.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “But if you choose not to believe it, then there’s nothing I can say to prove otherwise.”

“No, I suppose not.” She refused to meet his glance, knowing she had somehow disappointed him. Again.

The days passed. Grace slowly found her strength returning, though inside she felt dead, lifeless.

One day, a deep longing pulled at her. She wandered around, poking at a picture of Irene and one of her father, both so far away. She turned and picked up a book, but it held no appeal. She looked out the window. Suddenly, the outdoors called, and she hurried out. She needed to do something, but all she felt was a strange, restless urging.

A cluster of trees stood tall and straight in the far corner of the yard, past the barn. Having wandered there a few times, she knew that wild roses grew there in abundance. It was the perfect spot, and she gathered up several large rocks, carrying them to it. The sun beat down on her head. Sweat soon drenched her, but still she trundled back and forth with rocks until she had a small pile. Birds whistled and chattered; a crow flew overhead scolding. The leaves whispered as she arranged the rocks into a neat rectangle, then sat back on her heels to study her work.

“Good-bye, little Eleanor, my sweet baby. I never got a chance to know you, but still I miss you. I will never forget you.”

The little mound of rocks seemed so inadequate, but it was all she could think to do.

“Grace, what are you doing?”

Billy’s soft-spoken words directly behind her made her jerk her head up.

“It’s for the baby,” she murmured.

He sank down on his knees beside her. “What do you mean?”

“Willow told me how she lost three little babies. She said she named them. So I named our baby Eleanor May after my mother.” A thought struck her and she turned to face him. “I hope that’s alright with you. I never thought to ask.”

His dark eyes glistened. “I like that.” His words were husky. “Little Eleanor May.”

She turned back to the mound. “I wanted something to remember her by.” She paused and took a deep breath, knowing she would never need a remembrance. “Maybe what I really wanted was a way to say good-bye.” She nodded toward the rocks. “It isn’t a grave, really, but it’s the only way I know of saying a proper good-bye.”

She reached for Billy’s hand. They clung to each other.

“Good-bye, Baby,” Billy whispered.

“Good-bye,” Grace echoed. She turned to Billy, surprised to see how his eyes glistened. It was her undoing. She flung herself into his arms, sobbing.

“Gracie, Gracie,” he murmured, his tears merging with hers.