Tomorrow's Dream

by Janette Oke; Davis Bunn

  “I know you must be happy for them,” Patrick said, a hint of a smile speaking of his kind heart. Then he went on slowly, “But it must cause questions for you, as well. Why a healthy baby for them, and not for you?”

  Kyle shifted uncomfortably and licked her lips. He was getting far too personal, too direct. She had to speak, had to fill the difficult silence without giving the truth away.

  “The doctor said it was not at all uncommon,” she explained hurriedly. “He said Joel could likely have a dozen babies—all healthy.”

  The smile broadened. “That is great news. For you and Kenneth, too.”

  Kyle knew what he meant. She only nodded, feeling the coldness wrap around her heart.

  “We continue to pray for you,” the pastor said. “My wife and I, and our prayer group at church, as well. We are asking that God will be there with you in your time of trial and sorrow. That He will lead you in the future, and give you a healthy child—or children—according to His own will and timing.”

  “Thank you, that is . . .” She could not go on. The man was praying for something she had no intention of ever allowing to happen.

  But his gaze remained level upon her. “We also pray that you will accept the inner peace and comfort He is offering.”

  “That’s wonderful . . . thank . . . I really must be going.” She fumbled for the box of tablecloths, feeling that there was nothing more important than simply to get away. “I’d best not be taking any more of your time.”

  “My time is meant to be taken,” he said warmly.

  “Yes, well, I have things . . . the tea is starting . . . so good to see you.” She pushed back through the doors and out into the corridor, trying hard not to run.

  The following week, Kyle spent the entire taxi ride home from yet another charity function preparing a list of excuses. She had successfully avoided a visit to Abigail’s home since the baby’s death. The Rothmore estate held too many memories. Kyle did not need to think out this conclusion. She knew instinctively that a visit to Abigail’s home would endanger her carefully preserved barriers. Too much might threaten to break through.

  But Abigail had grown peevish over Kyle’s continued refusals to visit her home and had offered to host a charity luncheon herself. Kyle knew it was a tactic calculated to force her to come over. And not just for the luncheon itself. Abigail could now insist on Kyle helping her plan the event. And the way she hinted that she was not feeling entirely well was most certainly another part of her scheme. That was just like Abigail.

  Also nagging at her mind and emotions was what she had learned the day before—about Joel’s health continuing to decline. Kenneth had come home with the news, his complete calm reduced for the first time in weeks. Kyle found herself recalling what Joel had told her in the hospital corridor. And those were things she could not risk thinking about for very long. They threatened to destroy her defenses entirely.

  Kyle was so involved in worrying over the luncheon and her brother’s health that she was through the hall and up two of the stairs before she realized Kenneth was seated in the living room. She returned to the doorway. “I didn’t expect you so early.”

  Then she saw the doctor rise to his feet.

  It was hard for old Dr. Pearce to be threatening. But that was exactly her impression as he turned to her. The tired gray eyes inspected her with such clarity that she was filled with foreboding.

  “Hello, Kyle,” the doctor said. “I’m glad to see you.”

  “Join us for a moment, won’t you, dear?” Kenneth asked.

  Reluctantly she took a single step into the room. “What’s the matter?”

  “Not a thing, I am very happy to say.” Dr. Pearce gestured to the sofa beside him. “Please come have a seat.”

  She crossed her arms defensively and stayed where she was. Whatever it was that brought the doctor here, she knew it was something she was not going to like.

  “Kyle,” Kenneth hesitated, then forced himself to continue, “Dr. Pearce and I . . . darling, we have been talking about whether we should have another baby.”

  “Never.” The word was as forceful as if she had stamped her foot.

  But Dr. Pearce did not let it go. “You saw little Samuel for yourself,” he reminded her. “He is fine. There is no reason for you not to have a healthy baby.”

  “Why can’t you understand?” She felt the rage building but would not let it out. She couldn’t. If she did, the pain would come through as well. She heard the steel in her voice as she finished, “I will never have another baby. And that is final.”

  She turned and left the room, forcing herself to hold to a steady pace but wanting to flee. They would never understand. They couldn’t. But she knew that even if the second baby was fine, all the pain of losing Charles would be forced out. Every time she looked at the new child, she would ache for the one who was not there.

  Kyle stopped at the top of the stairs and leaned against the wall. The effort to keep it all inside was overwhelming. And what made it far worse, almost too much to bear, was the quiet, insistent voice. The one she could almost always pretend not to hear—until now, when they forced her to listen. It whispered to her in the night, the aching desire deep within to do what they said, to try again. Kyle forced herself erect and walked down to her room. It was impossible.

  19

  THE PHONE CALL CAME at two o’clock in the morning. Later Kyle had the impression that she had already been awake, lying there waiting for what she somehow knew was coming. Just as she knew that Kenneth would rise and walk down the stairs to take the call in the front hall, not in their bedroom. She walked to the top of the stairs and stood there in her nightgown, watching as he sat down even before he said hello. She knew that he, too, already sensed what was to come.

  “Yes.” Kenneth listened for one brief second and raised his free hand to hold the side of his face. “Yes. Simon. Hello.”

  He paused, then, “I see. Yes, of course. No, not at all, thank you. It was very kind to let us know immediately.”

  Another pause, longer this time, then, “Do you think so? All right. I’ll be going over immediately. Yes. I know the hospital. You will? Yes. I have it. I’ll be there to meet you. All right. Good-bye.”

  Kenneth fumbled as he tried to return the receiver to its place without looking. The receiver slipped out of his hand and tumbled to the floor. Kenneth did not reach to set it back. He just sat there, his hand on the side of his face, staring blindly at the opposite wall.

  “Kenneth?”

  He stirred then, turning slowly, taking his time, finally focusing on her at the top of the stairs. “Prepare yourself, Kyle, my love.”

  She said the words because she needed to release her breath. But she already knew. “It’s Joel, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Yes. It’s Joel.”

  Nothing about Joel’s funeral seemed real. The humming of voices and floating of images was the stuff of vague dreams. Kyle was aware of Kenneth’s arm supporting her. She knew she was guided into the pew alongside a weeping Martha. She felt Harry reach over and grip her hand for a very long while.

  And there was Ruthie. Eyes puffy from crying, clinging to the baby bundled in her arms. Her family surrounded her, buoying her up, reminding her that she was not alone.

  Reverend Langdon stepped to the podium, his dark robe well suited to the day. Kyle looked away. She did not want to see his smile meant as assurance to the grieving. Numbly she let the words drift around her without registering.

  She wasn’t even aware that the service had ended until she felt Kenneth’s hand lightly urging her to stand. She followed the casket down the aisle with the rest of the family. The only thing she noticed was Martha holding the baby, and Ruthie being supported by her mother and Simon.

  The day was bitterly cold. The cemetery was whipped to a bitter, frozen wasteland by a wind blowing straight from empty northern reaches. The sky was lost behind high clouds like a featureless gray blanket. Kyle chose to
stand because she did not want to sit beside the Millers and the Grimeses. She did not want to be that close to their grieving.

  She stood slightly around the corner made by the grave and the press of people, tightly hugging her coat against far more than the cold. Her reaction came without thinking now, this need to hold the sorrow and the loss deep inside, so deep she did not even feel it. She stood where she could see the Millers and Harry and Martha all lost together in their grief, and she let them feel for her. The day’s single tear froze halfway down her cheek.

  Kenneth slipped one arm around her shoulders and raised his other gloved hand to wipe at his cheeks. She knew with a wife’s understanding that this time he did not draw her tightly to his side because of her sorrow, but rather because of his own need. For an instant, this realization was almost enough to shatter the walls and pull her out of her shell. All the love she felt for him was pressed down deep inside her as well, she realized in that moment. But as swiftly as that understanding came, she jammed the feelings back down. She could not permit them to arise, not without letting out everything she could not let herself feel. Not ever.

  She stood there surrounded by family members and their grief, clenched up tight against the wind and the day and her husband’s embrace. An impression arose, and with it a swift keening from the unseen depths of her rigid heart. So much to hide away. Then it was as though the bitter wind reached down through the gathering and plucked the thought away.

  After the coffin had been lowered, people began to move about, then departed like dark waves of a sea she only half saw. Whispered words about God’s will and the kindness of Ruthie having Joel’s child were cast about her. Kyle nodded to all that was said, hearing little, seeing less. She felt drained, so exhausted that the walk back to the car seemed endless.

  They had buried her brother. One she had only recently come to know. A man she had learned to admire and, yes, to love. Yet she did not feel anything. The realization kept her company on the silent drive home. It had been so long since she had felt anything other than total emptiness.

  20

  ONE EVENING IN APRIL Kenneth phoned to say he would not be home at the usual hour, and Kyle had waited to prepare the evening meal. Now as they sat together over the roast, it was Kenneth who opened the conversation.

  “I wish there was something more we could do for Ruth. I visited the mission today. Though she didn’t say anything, I know Ruth is having a very difficult time.”

  Kyle lifted her head and felt her heart tugged by painful thoughts. News of Ruth and the small baby was of special interest.

  “I’m sure much of it is still so difficult for her.” He took a final bite of the roast and put down his knife and fork. His eyes had a distant look. “She must miss Joel terribly.”

  Kyle nodded. She could see how deeply Kenneth sensed the loss. The thought of Joel’s death made her own heart constrict.

  “I’m sure, beyond her longing for Joel,” Kenneth went on, “it must be hard for a single mother to care for the needs of herself and her child. And Ruthie does not have any secure income. She’s dependent on what comes in at the mission.”

  “Charity,” Kyle murmured.

  “Exactly,” Kenneth agreed, without any acknowledgment of her tone. “At least in a way.”

  Kyle kept her voice casual. “Why doesn’t she give up the mission work and just go back home? I’m sure she’d be welcomed with open arms.”

  “She certainly would. Simon was at the mission today as well. He said they don’t want to insist, but they’ve tried and tried to get her back to the farm.”

  “Why doesn’t she, then?”

  Kenneth’s eyes widened in surprise, as though he would have expected her to know the answer for herself. “She’s there because the ministry of Morning Glory meant so much to Joel. And to her. And all her recent memories of her husband—”

  “But surely her son means more!”

  Kenneth looked taken aback by her vehemence. He rested his elbows on the table as he looked at Kyle. “Of course he does.”

  “Then why doesn’t she consider him first?”

  Kenneth’s powerful gaze was focused fully upon her now. “I’m sure she does. But the mission work was Joel’s dream. His life. If Ruthie deserted it, I imagine she’d feel as though she was deserting him and his memory as well. Can you see that?”

  But Kyle was unable to respond. It felt as if a thousand shreds of thoughts were suddenly spinning through her mind, tugging at her heart, whispering ideas into her head that she could scarcely hear, much less believe that she was even considering.

  “Kyle, darling, it’s dreadfully hard to find people who are willing to commit time and love to helping those on the streets. Ruthie loves these poor lost ones. Not just because of Joel either. It’s her own calling as well. She feels the mission is where God wants her to serve. She has said time and time again that God will provide for her and the baby. She feels confident of that.” Kenneth’s gaze probed deeply. “You understand that, don’t you?” When Kyle did not answer, he said, “I believe God has a solution for Ruthie and her baby that includes the mission. I think we should pray that the Lord will clearly show that to her. In the meantime, we can give a bit more this month to help with her support.”

  Kyle rose to her feet and began collecting their dinner plates. She did not want to sit there under his gaze any longer. The battle within her was too powerful, too telling. There had been a time when she had trusted God, too. Trusted Him to heal her baby. But He hadn’t. He had let her down. She feared that He might let Ruthie down as well. Ruthie and the beautiful baby boy that was her brother’s child.

  For long into the night Kyle lay awake. The dark hours held a strangeness, for she seemed to be listening to only one part of what her mind and her heart were saying. She struggled not to hear the other whispers, the ones further down inside her. And in her confusion and unrest she ignored entirely Kenneth’s admonition to pray. She struggled with the problem, working it this way and that, seeking her own solution.

  Near morning it hit her with the force of a blow. Why had it taken her so long to think of it? She had a perfectly reasonable answer. With the idea’s arrival, the longing in her heart focused and tightened until she ached with something like hunger. But she tried not to think about that.

  Kyle felt tension and excitement and relief all surge through her, everything so tangled together that she was able to ignore everything except what she wanted to hear. Her solution was perfectly feasible, and Ruthie would be free to continue the work of their beloved mission.

  21

  ALTHOUGH HINTS OF SPRING finally arrived with that last week in April, temperatures remained far below normal. Many nights still touched freezing, giving Ruthie nightmares as she thought of the young people who did not have shelter. All that winter they had brought in as many as they could find. But even now, with spring at least indicated on the mission’s kitchen calendar, it meant the place was bulging at the seams. She dared not think about what the fire marshal might say.

  A slight shift in the buzz of conversation caught Ruthie’s attention. She rose from her desk and started moving toward the person silhouetted in the doorway before she had fully worked out who it was. Then the light shifted, and her smile captured her whole face.

  “Kyle, how wonderful!” She walked straight up and hugged her. Ruthie ignored the resistance she could feel through the elegant ankle-length coat. She might not be used to embracing people dressed in such finery, but Ruthie made it her practice to hug others, no matter what their station in life. Many of the young people here were frightened by touch. She ignored their fears because hugging them was a way of making them feel welcome, letting them know that what was offered here was more than just a roof and a meal. When they relaxed, as Kyle seemed to be doing now, Ruthie felt as though she had won a battle for her Lord.

  She held Kyle at arm’s length. “I’m so glad to see you. You look terrific.” Which was true, so long as she did no
t look too closely into those empty eyes. “How are you?”

  “I should be asking you that,” Kyle said, her smile twisting slightly to one side.

  “Oh, I’m so busy these days it’s almost possible to forget the pain,” Ruth returned warmly. “And then I’m too tired not to sleep.” For some reason her words unsettled Kyle, she could tell, so Ruthie slipped one arm through Kyle’s and drew her forward. “Come, let’s go into the chapel. It’s the one quiet place these days.”

  They picked their way around several clusters of young people, some on threadbare sofas and others on the floor. Here and there guitars were strumming, the chords and songs forming a cacophony of sound. Kyle asked, “What are they singing?”

  “Mostly protest songs about one thing or another. It’s the fashion these days.”

  “Doesn’t the noise bother you?”

  “Not enough that I would complain. I need to be needed.” She led her guest into the little corner chapel, really just a room off the main chamber and furnished with a small podium, a cross on the wall, and folding chairs. Ruthie waited until they were seated to repeat, “How are you, Kyle?”

  “Fine. I’m fine.”

  “We’ve missed seeing you around here. I have missed you. And little Samuel—”

  “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” Kyle pulled a handkerchief from her coat pocket and began twisting it between her fingers. “The baby, I mean.”

  The way Kyle tightened the handkerchief made Ruthie think she often went through these motions. “What about him, what about Samuel?”

  “You must be so busy these days here at the mission. All by yourself, I mean.”