Tomorrow's Dream (13 page)

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 not 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.”

“I have thought about going back to the farm,” Ruthie acknowledged. “But it wouldn't be possible to leave all that Joel has made. This is his legacy. I feel so close to him here.” Ruthie found herself watching Kyle's hands and the handkerchief. “I do go up to the farm often. I'm going tomorrow, as a matter of fact, so it's good that you came—”

“I wasn't talking about the farm,” Kyle said, her voice as tight as the handkerchief. “I was talking about . . . about Samuel. Your baby.”

“What about him?” Ruthie's voice held her bewilderment.

“I have a proposal, a solution to your problem,” Kyle said in a rush. “An idea that would help both of you. You would be free to continue Joel's work here without any worries about the baby, and little Samuel would be raised—”

“What?” Ruthie had to fight to catch a breath.

“He would be raised with every advantage,” Kyle hurried on. “And he has the same family bloodlines as I do. . . .” Her voice drifted to a stop.

Ruth struggled to speak above the turmoil in her heart. “Kyle—”

“I know you want the best for Samuel, and you can't possibly give the baby a proper upbringing alone. Kyle pressed on. “Especially here. Think of the danger of disease, and you hardly have enough to live on. But if he were with me . . .”

Ruthie forced her legs to straighten and drew herself upright. “If you mean—mean give up Samuel, you must know I could never do that.” She paused and looked directly into Kyle's face. “I don't think I understand. . . . I really must be going.”

Kyle seemed to take no notice of Ruthie's horrified response. She released the handkerchief long enough to hold out her hand toward Ruthie. “Please, Ruthie, give it some thought before you say no,” she said as her sister-in-law shrank from her touch. “Think of everything I could give him.”

22 

The storm of feelings
accompanied
Ruthie on her trip up to the Miller farm. They darkened the entire journey, isolating her from all but the baby in her arms. Every now and then she felt a rush of panic that there might indeed be a certain logic behind what Kyle had proposed. Then she tightened her embrace of Samuel and the horror rose fresh and strong, leaving her feeling ill to her stomach.

The only reason she ate at all that evening was because the baby needed nourishment. Her family, lovingly conscious of her mood, let her be. After all, she had lost her husband only a few months before.

She rose before the sun, glad to return to the farm's simple routines and early morning chores. In spite of her distress, she saw the mark of hard times everywhere she went. There were fewer animals, and those still around bore the lean, hungry look of beasts at the end of a long winter.

The family watched her in their quiet way, waiting until she was ready to speak for herself. Ruthie was not sure she should say anything about her traumatic encounter with Kyle. But after an inner debate she decided she had to tell someone, and who better than her family to help her sort it all out?

She waited until after breakfast. Mornings were a good time for sharing secrets. The sun had not yet warmed the earth, and fewer chores clamored for attention than in the summertime. Once the breakfast dishes were washed and put away, the family returned to the big breakfast table for their Bible reading and prayer. And she told them what Kyle had said.

She held nothing back. Not even the doubts that had come to her in the night, the ones which whispered that perhaps Kyle was right. Perhaps she should give the baby to Kyle and let him enjoy all the things she could not give him. Speaking in the Old German tongue helped Ruthie distance herself from the life in Washington and all her worries. It gave her the ability to stand away and observe her situation from a fresh perspective.

When she finished, she felt drained but satisfied. She knew that baby Samuel would stay with her. The doubts that had plagued her the night after Kyle's visit had no place here in this home. The baby was hers—hers and Joel's. Samuel would be raised with all the love and care she could give him.

To her surprise, it was not her father who spoke first. Instead, just as Joseph opened his mouth, Simon rose to his feet, moving so swiftly that his chair clattered over behind him.

“Everybody wait right here,” he demanded. “I have something to tell you.” He turned to Sarah, his younger sister, a grave expression in his eyes. “Unless you object.”

She started to speak but stopped and bit her lip. She glanced at Ruthie, then gave her head a shake. No. She did not mind.

Simon left the room. Ruthie's mother turned to her husband with a troubled expression, but before she could voice the question in her eyes, Joseph raised one hand. Wait.

Simon soon came back, bearing a worn and tattered leather wallet. He pushed it across the table to his father and declared, “This is for Ruthie.”

Joseph picked up the wallet and looked in astonishment at the bills stacked inside. “What is this?”

“Papa, Patience and I, we want to wed.” His voice trembled with the effort of speaking. “The Brueders are . . . are as hard up as we. All winter we have worked, saving up a dowry.”

“I helped, Papa,” Sarah added. “It was fun.”

“My tool shed,” their mother cried. “And all those hours you spent at the markets. I knew it was taking you too long to sell so few eggs.”

Joseph had not touched the money. He looked from the wallet to his son and back again. “What have you done for this money?”

“We dried flowers, Papa. Wild flowers we gathered last autumn. We didn't want to say anything because we weren't sure . . .” He had to stop for a breath. “It was Patience's idea. She heard about it from one of the stores. Sarah made the bouquets with her.”

Joseph stared at him. “So much they pay for dead flowers?”

“Eight hundred and seventeen dollars, Papa. We wanted to use it for planting some acres of flowers this summer. Then maybe in the fall we have our wedding.” He turned to look at Ruthie. “But I want you to have it. You need it. For the baby.”

Ruthie had to swallow the sudden lump in her throat before she could speak. “Simon, I can't take your dowry.”

“Yes you can. You must. Samuel is your son, Ruthie. He is
yours
.” He crossed his arms determinedly, showing the strength in his body and his spirit. “I know Patience will agree. The money is yours.”

A shaky breath from the head of the table brought them all around. Joseph's beard trembled as he struggled for control. He raised a work-worn hand and wiped at the corners of his eyes. Finally he managed, “Such a family I have been given. Such riches.” He looked at his son with shining eyes. “This day you have made me very proud.”

Simon blushed under the praise. “It wasn't just me, Papa. Sarah is an artist. You should see what she can do with the flowers. And Patience, she—”

“I was not speaking of the flowers. The flowers can wait for another talk.” He gestured at the wallet on the table before him. “I am speaking of your gift. For you and Patience to offer your sister the dowry your own fathers cannot give . . .”

Joseph Miller stopped and covered his eyes with one hand. He sat there for a long moment, utterly still, while they all held their breath.

As they sat and waited, the sun cleared the roof of the barn. Light streamed through the back window and splashed joyfully upon the table. The sudden light brought a sheen of tears to Ruthie's eyes.

Joseph dropped his hand and said to his son, “Make your wedding plans. I will be speaking to Papa Brueder. Save this money for your planting.”

“But, Papa—”

“Enough, I tell you, enough.” He turned and looked at Ruthie. “You know what you are to do.”

“Yes, Papa,” she said softly. “The baby is mine.”

“Have Kyle come to see me, if she will. It is time for us to talk. She needs help to heal these wounds.” He bent for his crutch, then pushed himself erect. He turned and looked once more at his son and murmured, “The richest man in all the world.”