Tomorrow's Dream (12 page)

“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.

“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.