Kyle stopped him by thrusting out her hand into the air between them. “Thank you so much for stopping by.” The courtesy of the words did not extend to her eyes.
Patrick sighed and accepted her hand. “I will continue to pray for you both, Kyle.”
Kenneth followed him outside, closing the door behind them. “I’m very sorry, Patrick. I apologize for Kyle. . . .” He drifted to a stop, then turned to go back inside in defeat.
“On the way over here, I was remembering the first time you brought her to church,” the pastor said quietly, stopping Kenneth with his words. “I had never seen a woman’s eyes shine so.”
“She had the gaze of an excited little child,” Kenneth agreed. The memory was enough to tear open all the wounds, all the yearnings for what had been. “It was one of the first things I noticed about her, and one of the characteristics I loved most.”
Patrick offered Kenneth his hand. “You must please let me know if there’s anything at all I can do.”
Kenneth silently walked to the sidewalk with him and watched until the man had disappeared around the corner, then sighed and returned to the house. As he put his hand on the doorknob, an unexpected peace filled his soul. “She is yours first, Lord, not mine. Help me to love her like you do.”
He found Kyle pacing angrily back and forth across the living room. “How dare that man say such a thing to me.”
“He was only trying to help.”
“I don’t want his help!” Her heels jabbed at the carpet with each step, as though she wanted to drill through the floor. “I don’t want another baby! I want my baby!”
“I know, honey. So do I.” To his surprise, Kenneth did not feel disturbed by the outburst. “I wish I could do something, change the hands of time or make it all better. If I could, I would.”
She did not seem to have heard him. “I want my baby. Not another one. Never another one.” Then her pacing began to slow. Her face started to lose its tautness, as though internal strings were loosening.
She stopped in the middle of the room and whispered to the emptiness surrounding her, “I’ll never go through this pain again. I can’t.”
“I know,” he said, stepping forward, reaching out, drawing her near. Feeling her respond and soften and fold onto his chest for the first time in months. Hearing her softly sob. For a moment at least her isolation had been breached.
Kenneth raised his hand and softly stroked her hair. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head, full of gratitude that for now, for this tiny instant, his wife was back again. He loved her, this woman-child whose heart seemed too fragile for the burden she was being forced to bear.
But even as he held her, he knew the journey back was far from over yet.
14
JOEL AWOKE FEELING BETTER than he had in weeks, well enough to brave the chill dawn air and help with what had come to be known at the center as the morning patrol. It was a good time to search out new faces, while the young wanderers were still huddled under blankets or sleeping inside the limping vehicles which had brought them to the city.
The area of Washington known as Adams Morgan was a place in transition. On the fringe of Washington life, it was full of little artsy coffeehouses and run-down warehouses and corners of immigrant population. In recent times it was also being flooded by young people.
At the front entrance to a derelict tenement, Joel noticed a shadow that didn’t quite fit with the other street shadows. Approaching the area, he realized he was looking at two bodies huddled together under a tattered overcoat. Joel cleared his throat, and one of the heads emerged, then the other. A boy and a girl, probably thirteen and fifteen and maybe brother and sister, though they were so dirty it was hard to tell, stared back at him. One of the things that worried him so about these new street kids was how they seemed to be getting younger all the time.
“Good morning,” he said, keeping his tone carefully matter-of-fact. He could see from their gazes that smiles would not be trusted. Not from a stranger. “My name is Joel. I’m from the Morning Glory Center. It’s a place where you can come for a meal, a shower, or a bed if you want it. Have you eaten recently? How about some hot soup?”
Joel caught the tiniest flicker of interest from the hollow eyes. He went on to tell them that the Center had a doctor, they could stay as long or as short as they wished, and they could make a free call home.
“Or I can do it for you,” he explained, knowing the litany of information was less important than assuring them of his genuine care. “You can listen in while I let your folks know you’re okay. I won’t tell them where you are unless you want me to.”
The introduction to the Center was by now so familiar that Joel could keep his mind fastened upon his heart and the prayers he was forming. He offered his hand. “Would you like to come in and get warm?”
Joel led the pair back through the narrow street in silence. He knew it would take time and prayer and patience before they would be ready to hear anything else he had to say.
When the mission came into view, he heard a little gasp from the girl and it made him smile. The ancient brick facade was whitewashed, then decorated with sunny flowers. They stretched up two stories, blooming in giant profusion the entire length of the block. In the feeble light of a cold January morning, the effect was stunning.
Over the entrance, the words “Morning Glory” had been painted in bright gold letters four feet high. Higher still a sun resembling a four-pointed cross beamed down upon the tattered street scene.
Gingerly the ragged pair followed him across the street and up the mission’s crumbling steps. Inside, Joel smiled a greeting to a group of long-haired hippies waiting for the breakfast line to open. Joel turned the two over to a gentle young woman who volunteered three mornings a week and had a very soft touch with frightened newcomers. He was about to go set up for the morning prayer service when a familiar voice called his name.
Joel turned to greet the doctor hurrying over, a serious young man who volunteered his medical services two mornings a week. He was also their family doctor. He greeted Joel with, “Why didn’t you come in for the tests?”
“I got caught up with work. We’re so understaffed these days, and there are more kids all the time.”
“And they are working you to death.” His dark eyes flashed with more than professional care. “Have you told Ruthie yet?”
“I can’t. She’s up at the farm again. They’re really having financial troubles, and—”
“This can’t wait any longer, Joel. You have to prepare her.”
He hated these conversations. Hated the tension, the certainty of the prognosis but the uncertainty of when. Joel offered a feeble protest. “I’ve been feeling good recently.”
“You and I both know these temporary ups and downs don’t mean a thing.” The finality of the words were softened by his underlying concern. “When does she get back?”
“Saturday afternoon.”
“I’m here for another clinic Monday morning. I want to hear you have spoken to her by then, all right?” He made sure the unspoken warning was understood before asking, “How is Ruthie doing?”
“Fine. The baby is kicking up a storm.”
“Then you don’t have any reason to delay this.”
Joel sighed his defeat. “I’ll tell her.”
“As soon as she’s back, Joel.” Again there was the hard edge to his gaze. “I will help you if it’s necessary.”
Joel sat across the table from his wife. Their apartment and the center’s offices covered the fourth floor. The third floor was split in two, half holding rooms for overnight volunteers and half for young people. The second floor contained more dorm rooms and places for two more staff. The ground floor was divided into chapel, clinic, and public rooms.
Their apartment was furnished in the same mismatched donations as the mission. Joel was usually too filled with the happiness and shared purpose of their days to notice. But now he sat and looked around the kitchen and saw
how no two chairs at their table matched, how the refrigerator door was held shut with string, how the stove only had one burner that functioned. He could not keep a sigh from escaping.
Ruthie looked up from knitting a tiny cap. “What’s the matter?”
He looked down at the Bible, open and unread before him. “I was just wishing I could give you more than I do.”
“Oh. That again.” She smiled as the needles clicked cheerfully. “You just want me to tell you how happy I am.”
He looked at his wife, saw the traces of fatigue left over from her trip to the farm. In her condition, the journeys took a lot out of her. But she felt it important that she be there for the family in their time of need. “How was everything up there?”
It took her a moment to respond. “Well, Simon and Patience, they are seeing much of one another. Every time I am around Patience, I am surprised by how much she is like Mama.”
“That’s exactly what I thought.”
“She and Simon and Sarah have been working on something. Nobody knows exactly what. But they’ve taken over Mama’s tool shed and they won’t let anybody in.”
Joel repeated, more softly this time, “How was everything?”
“Hard.” The needles slowed as the shadow came and went across her face. “I don’t know how they are going to make ends meet, but Papa promises it will be all right. With the Lord’s help.”
Joel closed the Book and set it on the table. He didn’t want to do this, but the doctor was coming back the next morning, and Joel knew if he didn’t say anything, the doctor might say it for him. “Ruthie, I have some news of my own.”
She took one look at his face, and the needles stopped. “You’ve seen the doctor?”
Joel nodded and watched as her movements turned very deliberate. Carefully she folded up her knitting and settled it on the table by his Bible. When her hands were nestled in her lap, he explained. “He says I have to stop doing so much.”
“The same I have been saying, and more.” Her accent thickened as it always did when she was worried. “Glad I am he has said what needs saying.”
“He wants me to stop doing everything.” There. It was finally out. Though just forming the words tore at him. “He says it’s the only way.”
“Did he say . . .” She had to stop and swallow. “Your heart?”
He did not want to speak the words. He did not want to cause her more worry. Not now. Not ever. But the doctor was right. She had to know. “He says it’s gotten worse.”
“Then this must we do,” Ruthie replied with forced firmness. “Rest you must, and stop with the moving and cleaning and such as that.”
“But there’s so much—”
“And so many who will help, and so much we shall turn over to God.”
He dropped his head. “I love the ministry so much.”
She reached over and took his hands with her own. “My beloved husband, still you can give the best of what you have. Your words and your love of God, those are still yours to give.” She waited until he raised his gaze to meet her own. Love and concern and pride filled her eyes and shone from her face. “Speak from the heart, my husband. Let other hands do the other work. Be happy with what still is ours.”
“All right,” he agreed, loving her all the more.
“Stay healthy and here with me,” Ruthie said, her eyes glistening. He saw her try for a smile. “I want our baby to know what a wonderful man is his papa.”
15
ABIGAIL PACED BACK AND FORTH along the church’s broad top step, thinking to herself that everything was finally going according to plan.
Kyle had put her off about actually attending a church service together—she’d said something about a pastor’s visit that had upset her terribly. Abigail had not been able to gather much more from either Kenneth or Kyle. She only knew that time after time Kyle had postponed their coming, until finally this week she had agreed. Probably more to placate her than anything else, she realized.
The weather was splendid, a brilliant day with the temperature still crisp enough to require a winter coat. Abigail absently stroked her fur as she waited. The sunshine and bright blue sky showed the church at its best. It truly was an impressive building, all aged stone and large arches and tall mahogany doors. She smiled and waved as she spotted the two approaching. Yes, it really was just as she had imagined, with all her friends there to greet them and see Abigail enter with her fine young daughter and son-in-law. Just like she had always planned it.
But as she walked forward to embrace them, she wondered why she felt a sense of disquiet, as though the perfect day had suddenly sounded a distant but improper chord.
“Hello, my dear. How are you today?”
“Fine, thank you, Mother. You look lovely.”
Again there was that jarring discord. She held Kyle at arm’s length, long enough to give her daughter a swift inspection. Kyle looked fine, impeccably dressed as usual these days, with every hair in place. Sunglasses hid her eyes, and the rest of Kyle’s face was as impersonal as the glasses. Abigail could not understand why she was feeling unsettled.
She turned to her son-in-law. “Hello, Kenneth.”
His smile was genuine. Maybe a bit weary, but from the heart. And something more. “Thank you for your invitation, Abigail.”
“You are most welcome.” Whatever was there in Kenneth’s gaze left her feeling the sense of unease even more strongly. She turned them around. “Come along, I really must introduce you to some of my friends.”
Their walk through the foyer and into the vestibule became a slow procession, as Abigail did her best to introduce everyone she knew. Kyle handled it with formal precision, something about her manner continuing to trouble Abigail. Kenneth, on the other hand, held none of the reserve she would have expected to find. She knew he would have preferred returning to their old church. Yet here he was, smiling and at ease, allowing her to pull them from one person to the next, showing remarkable grace. And something more. What was it?
Eventually they made their way down to Abigail’s spot, a pew on the left just over halfway down. She waved to a few other familiar faces, then settled herself between Kyle and Kenneth. As soon as he was seated, Kenneth bowed his head and closed his eyes.
Abigail turned to her daughter and said, “Did we buy that dress together?”
“No, I picked it out last week. Do you like it? It’s from the latest Chanel collection.”
Then it hit her. Hard. Abigail opened her mouth, but no words came. She sounds exactly like me. The thought struck her with the force of a blow, made even more powerful by how self-evident it now seemed. As though she had been seeing it for months but refusing to recognize it. Yet now, here in church, she found herself looking at Kyle and seeing her with a clarity that could not be denied.
“Mother?”
Still Abigail remained held by the revelation. Kyle was becoming exactly like her. Seeing her daughter in this light was most jarring. The correctness and the cool politeness of which Abigail was so proud seemed false and discordant in her daughter.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she managed, though the word sounded strangled to her own ears. Kyle had lost what was most precious, the childlike openness and brightness. In its place she was building what Abigail had always wanted and demanded from her, yet which now seemed utterly, totally wrong.
But all she could say right then was, “You look very nice, dear.”
Abigail watched as Kyle turned back to the church bulletin, yet she knew Kyle was seeing nothing at all. The sunglasses were off, but the eyes still maintained such barriers that nothing could get through. Not even light.
Abigail turned away but found no comfort in glancing about the beautiful sanctuary. She returned a few more smiles and waves, but the new insight into her daughter, the lack of rightness, held her fast.
Her gaze fell upon Kenneth. He still sat with his head bowed. A quietness stronger than the silence around them seemed to emanat
e from him, a peace so strong that it began to press in around her. It was profoundly unfamiliar, this peace, and yet she did not draw away. Even when the pastor approached the podium and began the service, even when they stood and sang and sat and listened to the Word, through it all she felt the peaceful acceptance surrounding her son-in-law.
She wondered why it left her feeling so threatened.
After the service Kyle was drawn away by an acquaintance who wanted to continue the introductions. Abigail held back, wanting a word with Kenneth. When they had moved farther down the aisle, she said quietly, “You seemed so, well, at rest back there.”
He looked at her a moment, then said, “I had a remarkable thing happen to me a while ago.”
She smiled as someone called a greeting but kept her face turned toward Kenneth. “Please, I would like to hear about it.”
“Actually, it happened at a time when I was feeling more discouraged and hopeless about Kyle than I ever had before. But God in His mercy gave me a gift, something I wasn’t even asking for right then.” He paused a moment and looked into the distance as if searching for the next words. “The Lord filled my heart with a peace that is helping me to leave my concerns and fears about Kyle with Him.”
Abigail stared at him a moment, then said, “What do you mean?”
“I know. It’s difficult for me to understand, too. And I’m certainly still very concerned. Sometimes I get so troubled and impatient it just seems unbearable. But then something happens.” A gentle smile touched his lips. “Maybe telling you about yesterday would help.”
“Yes, do.”
“We had an argument—again. Over nothing, as usual.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She inspected his face. “You’ll excuse me if I say you don’t seem upset about it.”
“I’m really not. Not anymore. It hurt a lot at the moment. It started over my having to go to the office on a Saturday. You know we have that board meeting on Monday. But then some other things started coming out. Kyle accused me of not having prayed hard enough to save the baby.”
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