Tomorrow's Dream

by Janette Oke; Davis Bunn

  “Not in a million years,” Martha replied.

  Harry turned to Abigail. “It’s something how right now we’ve got all this pain and worry over both our children—Kyle with her heartache and Joel with his heart. It keeps us up nights, I can tell you that. But at the same time . . .” He looked back at his wife. “Maybe you’d better finish.”

  “You’re doing just fine, dear,” she prompted. “Go ahead.”

  “I’m not so good with words,” Harry apologized. “I guess all I’m trying to say is that even here in the midst of all this, we can feel the Lord’s hand at work. He uses even the bad times, helping us to grow, to reach out to Him, to trust Him to find the way through.”

  Martha grasped her hand once more. “Let it go, my dear. Let the Lord work in you as He has in us.”

  Abigail forced herself to smile and nod. But all she could think was how fast these two seemed to be growing, and how wise. Like Kenneth. And there she was, left standing still, lost somewhere far behind.

  17

  KYLE WAS COMING DOWN THE STAIRS as the doorbell rang. She stifled a cry of frustration. It had taken her two days to work up the nerve to make this little journey. She knew she had to see Joel and Ruthie’s new baby.

  She walked to the door, ready with words to swiftly turn away whomever it might be. Then she opened it and found herself staring into Martha Grimes’ face. Kyle took a surprised step back. “What . . . ?”

  “Hello, dear.” The lack of a welcome did not seem to faze Martha. She entered the front hallway. “How are you?”

  “I’m . . . I’m fine.” Kyle wondered if there was some way the family had learned of her intentions for that day. No, no. It was not possible. “I’m also in a hurry.”

  “I won’t keep you.” The sadness and the caring were etched into Martha’s every feature. “I decided that I couldn’t wait any longer for an invitation. I was over at the hospital seeing my new grandson and decided to stop by. I needed to see our daughter again.”

  Kyle felt a shudder go through her. Forcefully she pushed it all aside. “I’ve just need some time alone.”

  “I understand. You’re still struggling, aren’t you?”

  Martha’s statement was said in a straightforward manner that rankled Kyle. “Don’t you think I deserve to be sad and upset?”

  “No, I do not.”

  The answer was so direct and forceful that it caused Kyle’s head to jerk upright. She stared at her long-lost mother.

  “No,” Martha repeated just as stoutly. She reached for Kyle’s hand, her eyes seeming to plead with Kyle to listen well and understand her words. “No. You do not deserve to draw your pain and grief deep inside you. You are too fine a person, Kyle. Too loving. You have suffered enough.”

  Kyle listened as the truth constricted the heart she was trying to protect within its hard shell.

  “Your anger, your bitterness, is only bringing you more suffering,” Martha explained, her voice breaking. “Can’t you see? You are permitting this sorrow to grind you down. Destroy your faith. Separate you from the loving comfort of your God. You don’t deserve that, Kyle. You don’t, and neither does God.”

  Kyle struggled inwardly as conflicting emotions swirled through her mind. Finally she stiffened her shoulders and forced a brave smile into place. “I’m fine. Really, you shouldn’t worry—”

  “You’re making the same kind of mistake I made all those years ago,” Martha quietly pleaded, her voice hollow and pain in her eyes. “You’re trying to hold everything in, lock it all inside, and bear it alone.”

  Kyle withdrew her hand and mentally shook herself free of all emotional encumbrances. “I’m fine,” she insisted again.

  “Let God back in,” Martha said once more as she allowed Kyle to usher her outside and down the front steps. “Let God help you.”

  “I’m fine,” Kyle repeated. She felt that if she had to smile much longer her face would crack. “Thank you for stopping by.”

  The handkerchief in Kyle’s lap was twisted into a damp knot. She sat on the edge of the bench and looked up and down the hospital corridor. Would Joel never leave? She did not know why she was there except that it was expected of her.

  But she did not want to encounter her brother as well. It was already too much. Part of her wanted to flee from the hospital with its smells and its sounds. She had not been in a hospital since . . . She could not think of that. Not now.

  Again she glanced down the corridor, willing Joel to come out the door. He should turn left, away from where she sat, and go down the stairs and out the doors and leave her free to go in and see the baby.

  But the corridor remained empty.

  She glanced at her watch, angry at her brother for making her wait, furious with them all for . . . for what? She couldn’t sort out all the conflicting emotions that drew her one way and then the other. Kenneth had invited her to join him yesterday when he came for his own first meeting with Samuel Harry Grimes. Kenneth had told her yesterday that Joel’s father was awfully proud that his grandchild carried his name. Kenneth spoke in that mild tone of his, watching her all the time.

  Kenneth’s calm sometimes made her want to scream and tear at her hair. She did not know why. She did not understand a lot of things these days. But they didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered except just getting through one more day. Which was why she had refused to go with Kenneth yesterday. Seeing the baby and all the family there at the same time was more than she could face.

  With an exasperated sigh Kyle sprang to her feet. She would not wait any longer. She started jerkily down the corridor, having to fight herself each step of the way.

  She stopped in front of the door and stood there a long moment, twisting the handkerchief. When a nurse passed by and gave her a curious look, she was spurred to release the handkerchief, raise one hand, and knock.

  After a moment’s silence, Joel appeared in the doorway. His face beamed with surprised delight. “Kyle! Look, Ruthie, it’s Kyle!”

  “Let her in! Oh, this is wonderful. I prayed you would come and share the moment.” Ruthie was there in the bed, her face bright like Joel’s, one hand outstretched to greet her.

  The other arm cradled a baby.

  Kyle forced her legs to carry her across the room, forced one arm to lift. Her hand was taken by Ruthie. She felt herself drawn down and the hand slip up and around her neck. She held herself as stiff as possible, struggling not to touch the bundle.

  As soon as she could, Kyle raised herself back up. She wanted to smile. But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t make the muscles of her face work. She could do nothing but stand there and look down at the little form.

  “Would you like to hold him?”

  Her headshake was more of a little shudder. Her arms yearned to reach out, even as the wound in her heart held her back.

  Joel slipped one arm around her shoulders and said proudly, “Isn’t he beautiful?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, the voice not her own. And he was. A perfectly beautiful baby boy. She saw the look of love and pride and joy pass between Joel and Ruthie, and shuddered again.

  She did not know how long she stood there. But finally she realized her silence grew uncomfortable for the two new parents. She could see the glances they exchanged, the ones filled with concern over her. But she did not want their sorrow. So she made a superhuman effort and put on a show of cheeriness. She noted where they could buy nice clothes for the baby, and how pretty the room was, and how good Ruthie looked—all the right things.

  Then she glanced at her watch, just like she had seen Abigail do a thousand times when she was ready to leave, and said some words about needing to be off to her next appointment. She permitted herself to be drawn down into another one-armed embrace by Ruthie. The sorrowful concern shone from her eyes and threatened to make Kyle weep. But she held grimly to her composure. She couldn’t cry. Not here. Not now. If she did she would never stop.

  “I’ll walk with you down to the elevators,�
� Joel said, opening the door for her.

  Kyle could not marshal enough energy to object. Just then her mind was held by a single bitter thought. Life was so terribly, horribly unfair.

  But Joel did not lead her to the elevators. Instead he took her arm and led her to a bench in the side corridor. “Let’s sit down here for a moment.”

  Kyle felt as though her legs could barely support her own weight. She allowed herself to be guided down, and noted Joel’s puffing breath as he seated himself beside her. She glanced over. His complexion was worse than the last time she had seen him. The thought made her pause, for it took a moment to recall when that last time was. It may have been months.

  “Kyle, I have something to tell you.” His tone was gentle but strong. All expressions of the joy he had shown in the room just a moment before were gone. “You need to know something. I hate to burden you further right now, but I am dying.”

  The words drew her out from behind the veil of her own bitter anguish.

  He looked at her with eyes that were both clear and somber. “Yes, of course, we’ve been talking about it for years. But now the time is actually here. And only a matter of weeks. Months, if I’m lucky.” He stopped and forced a ragged breath. His voice dropped until she could barely hear the words, “I won’t see my son’s first birthday.”

  Kyle could not speak. Her mouth worked, but the sounds would not come.

  Joel paused a moment, then continued, “I don’t have time to wait any longer. Some things need to be out in the open, and right now. Watching my own death come closer and closer, and knowing there is nothing I can do about it, has made me view life—and death—in a very different light.” Another pause, another breath, this one easier. “Kyle, you have got to let your grief go.”

  Though said with great care and concern, the words came with great power. “I can’t, Joel,” she finally managed.

  “Yes, you can.” The answer was so direct, so forceful, it caused Kyle’s head to snap upright. “Yes,” Joel repeated. He reached for Kyle’s hand, his eyes pleading for Kyle to listen and understand. “You have told yourself so long and so often that you will never recover from the loss of your baby that you don’t even hear the truth any longer. But listen, Kyle. God loves you. His Word tells you that. Your own heart would tell you if you would only let it.”

  Kyle’s deep breath and struggle for control filled the air between them.

  “You have suffered enough,” Joel persisted quietly. “This anger and bitterness is destroying you.”

  The tears in Joel’s eyes and voice tore at her own heart. With a strangled sob, Kyle jumped to her feet and nearly ran down the hospital corridor.

  “Look at him!” Kenneth held up the infant for his aunt Kyle to observe. “Have you ever seen a sturdier boy?”

  Kyle managed a smile. Little Samuel certainly was the image of a perfect baby. She tentatively reached out a finger and let the chubby hand curl around it. His grip tightened, amazing her that one so small could grasp so firmly.

  “He’s beautiful,” Martha enthused. “Just beautiful.”

  They were gathered in Joel and Ruthie’s apartment over the mission, there to celebrate the mother and child’s arrival home from the hospital. Ruthie, pale but happy, lay back against the sofa piled with extra pillows. Her eyes danced with pleasure as she watched her small son being passed from one pair of hands to another.

  “I think it’s about Papa’s turn again,” Joel spoke up. “The rest of you have hogged him long enough.” He reached for his infant son, then cuddled and whispered to him as he went back over to sit beside Ruthie.

  Kenneth repeated a question for what seemed to Kyle to be the umpteenth time. “So the doctor says he’s okay? Everything has checked out?”

  “More than okay,” Ruthie replied again. “Dr. Pearce says he is perfect. All ten fingers and toes. And not one sign of any heart complication.”

  “He must take after his mother,” Joel said, leaning forward to kiss Ruthie’s cheek.

  “Not necessarily,” Kenneth quickly countered. “I talked with the doctor a while back. He said it is not at all uncommon for families, even ones with some possibility of genetic heart problems, to have normal, healthy children. In fact, a problem is more the exception than the rule.”

  “Dr. Pearce told me the same thing,” Joel agreed, his eyes on his child.

  “He told Joel we can go right on raising a whole quiver full of healthy babies,” Ruthie added, blushing slightly.

  Kyle did not join in the little ripple of laughter that circled the room. For one brief moment her heart quickened. Had the doctor really said that? Was it possible . . . ? No, no. She pushed the idea from her. She would not even consider it. The thought alone was far too dangerous. She could not bear the pain again. She could not open old wounds that she was finally managing to keep out of sight and mind most of the time.

  Kyle felt eyes glance her way. She refused to meet their gazes and the unspoken questions contained there.

  Finally the small baby broke the tension. With a lusty wail he announced that he had had enough of the family for one day. He now wanted time alone with his mother. Nursing. Cuddling. And a chance for a nice nap.

  As Ruthie reached for her baby, Kyle rose to her feet and turned toward the door. But she could not tune out the soft motherly whispers of devotion and comfort.

  “We’ll leave now,” Kenneth was saying. “Again, our congratulations. You have a beautiful son, Joel. We wish you—all three—God’s blessing.”

  “He has blessed us,” Joel answered, and Kyle could hear how the emotions turned his voice husky. She could not bear any more.

  “Don’t forget, we want you to come up just as . . .” Kyle heard Martha’s voice fade as she hurried down the steep stairway. The empty landing below echoed her impatient footsteps, and she felt the steps’ hollow sound ring all the way up to her heart. She took a breath of the afternoon air and resolved to be firm. She was fine. As long as she kept herself firmly in check, she would make it just fine.

  18

  “DID YOU NOTICE HER HAT?”

  “Who could help but notice it?” A shared titter followed the comment.

  Kyle had entered the church hall, her hands filled with flowers for the upcoming charity tea. She had no idea whom the two ladies were discussing but was relieved it was not her. Fortunately she was not wearing a hat.

  “Oh, finally you’re here,” called a voice to her right. Mrs. Tilly, a member of the decorating committee, hurried toward Kyle, her brightly flowered skirt swishing with each step. “I’ve been growing anxious.”

  Kyle nodded. Mrs. Tilly was often anxious.

  “Good, you were able to get the deep pink ones like I asked. I was so hoping you could. They will go splendidly with the other decorations.” The woman exuberantly scooped up the armful of flowers and disappeared into the side room, talking to herself as she went.

  One of the younger women, Molly, screwed up her face as the swishing skirt disappeared. “So how many florists did you visit before you found the deep pink ones?”

  Kyle sighed. “Five. I was about to give up.”

  “I’m sure the deeper pink will make the cakes and tea taste so much better,” Molly mimicked, and the young women gathered nearby laughed.

  Kyle hung her coat and proceeded over to help with the decorating.

  Someone asked Kyle, “Did Abigail come with you today, dear?”

  “No, she won’t make it,” Kyle replied, setting out the dishes. “She’s been feeling a little under the weather.”

  “Oh, nothing serious, I hope.”

  “No,” Kyle said, though she did not know for certain. Abigail refused to discuss her health with anyone.

  The conversation swirled onward.

  “Kyle, be a dear and go get us another set of tablecloths. You’ll find them in the box in the kitchen.”

  “No she won’t. I just saw them in the reception area back by the church offices.”

  “What
on earth are they doing back there?”

  “I haven’t any idea. There was a box of cutlery there beside it.”

  “I’ll go see,” Kyle said, glad for an excuse to leave the chatter behind for a moment. Such gatherings were safe and comfortable, but sometimes the noise and inconsequential chitchat seemed to push at her. As she walked down the long back corridor toward the church offices, Kyle found herself wondering why the event was ever dubbed a charity tea. She knew that by the time the elaborate decorations and fussy luncheon items were paid for, there would be precious little left for charity.

  “Kyle, what a pleasant surprise!”

  The unexpected voice astounded and dismayed her. The last person she had expected to bump into here at Abigail’s church on the day of a charity tea was Reverend Patrick Langdon. She had not seen their former pastor since the day he visited her at the house. Kyle finally managed, “What are you doing here?”

  “Why, just paying my colleague a visit. We talk and pray together from time to time.” He stepped forward, examining her with that penetrating gaze of his. “How are you doing, Kyle?”

  “Fine, I’m fine,” she repeated automatically as she backed away from him. His presence here was unnerving, as though her veneer of safety was being penetrated.

  Patrick stayed where he was. “We’ve all missed you. I’ve asked Kenneth several times if I might come by for another visit.”

  “We just need a little time.” She suddenly felt it very important to include Kenneth. She did not wish to face this intent man baring her own soul. “We are adjusting.” Then she added a practiced, pious phrase that she hoped would release her from the careful scrutiny. “God has been good.”

  “Has He?” The pastor’s eyes widened. “So through all the pain and bewilderment of loss, your faith in God and in His love has held firm?”

  “Oh yes,” she replied quickly.

  She sensed he was trying to read whether her true feelings were in keeping with her lips, so she repeated, “God has been good. Joel and Ruthie have a perfect, healthy baby.” She stopped, wondering why she had said those words. But there was no taking them back.