Tomorrow's Dream (2 page)

Kyle did not mention that her mother had not begun attending church until just a few short months ago. Nor that the only times she had herself entered the large city church were for several gala weddings and her adoptive father's funeral. “We are very happy where we are,” she stated calmly.

“Well, if you won't do it for me, do it for your husband. Think of all the excellent connections Kenneth would make there. Not to mention raising your child in the proper environment.”

“We do not attend church for the sake of business connections,” Kenneth said. The only signal that his patience was wearing thin was a softer tone. “We attend church to worship our Lord.”

Kyle glanced from one to the other, feeling the lines of tension gradually drawing tighter across the table. Business was a touchy subject between her husband and her mother, and adding religion made for an explosive combination.

Lawrence Rothmore's legacy meant that Kyle now controlled a majority of stock in the Rothmore Insurance Company. Kenneth had been employed there for some years and, under Lawrence's tutelage, had risen quickly to a place of responsibility in the company. But the board remained unconvinced that the entire company should be placed in the hands of such a young and untested executive. To have insisted on Kenneth being given the role of chief executive would have cost them many of their large corporate clients, as they would have departed with the disgruntled board members. Besides, Kenneth had explained, holding the position of executive vice-president for several years was not necessarily a bad thing.

“You can most certainly worship God just as well downtown with me,” Abigail retorted, “and do your career worlds of good at the same time.”

Kenneth started to speak, then paused for the waiter to set down their plates. Kyle used the diversion as a chance to place her hand on Kenneth's arm. When he turned her way, she gave her head a minute shake. When Abigail's attention returned to their conversation, Kyle said firmly, “Mother, we are going to attend our own church. You are welcome to come with us whenever you like. We will be happy to join you from time to time, but our church home will remain exactly where it is.”

“But—”

“The matter is closed,” Kyle said, firmness returning to her voice.

Looking at her husband, Kyle asked, “Would you say the blessing for us?”

2 

Kyle turned to where
her
birth parents beamed from the corner of the church's front entryway. “How do I look?” she asked.

Martha Grimes regarded her with eyes threatening to overflow at any moment. “You look wonderful, daughter.”

“And big,” Harry Grimes added with a grin. “Bigger and happier with every passing day.”

“She does not. She looks wonderful.”

Harry asked, “How close is it now?”

“Nine weeks, but the doctor thinks I might be a little early.”

“I don't know, I have this feeling it's going to be a girl,” Martha announced.

“Don't say that anywhere near Abigail,” Kyle warned. “She is absolutely positive it's going to be a boy.”

“Oh, pshaw, what does she know?”

“As much as you do,” Harry reminded his wife.

Kenneth joined the little group. He and Harry both wore the sprig of flowers in their lapels indicating that they were groomsmen in the wedding and were also ushering guests to their places. Joel had told his father there was no one else he would choose for his best man. Kenneth quipped, “I thought there were supposed to be two of us working here.”

“You're doing such a good job,” Harry replied, “I felt like I should just stand back and watch a master at work.”

“You did not. You're just being lazy.” Martha shook her head in mock scolding. “Shame on you.”

“Somebody needs to stand here and hold this wall up,” Harry replied.

“Everybody watch out,” Kenneth said with a little smile, adjusting his tie. “Here comes—”

“Stop it now,” Martha reproved gently, then turned her smile in the direction of the outer stairs. “Hello, Abigail.”

Abigail stepped in from the brilliant winter sunlight and had to stop and blink several times. “Oh, hello, everyone. Is this the welcoming committee?”

“Reinforcements,” Kenneth agreed with a straight face.

Kyle nudged him and stepped forward to give Abigail a hug. The woman wore a stunning outfit of midnight blue set off with a string of cultured pearls. “You look wonderful.”

“Thank you. And you look quite—enormous.” She frowned as she rubbed the fabric of Kyle's dress between thumb and forefinger. “I distinctly remember telling the seamstress I wanted your dress done in silk.”

Martha's meaningful look drew Harry from propping up the side wall. “Come on, Abigail, we're holding up traffic here.” He crooked his arm and said, “Mind if I escort the most beautiful lady here to her place?”

She took his arm and said, “Harry Grimes, don't you dare start on me today. You know what I think about weddings.”

“Now, let's see.” Harry craned his neck up and down the church, a mischievous grin on his face. “We've got to set you behind a column or something so you don't upstage the bride.”

“This is your final warning.” But Abigail was struggling to keep her smile under wraps. She pointed down the center aisle. “There. Right up there in the middle. That's where I'm sitting.”

Kyle waited for them to move off before saying to her husband, “Why can't you be like that with Abigail?”

“I would,” Kenneth replied, “if I could only figure out how he does it.”

“That's easy,” Martha Grimes responded. “Harry has had a lifetime's experience with dark moods. He's now found a way to put them to good use.”

Kenneth nodded slowly. “That proves just how much better a man Harry is than me.”

“Oh, you—it isn't
that
hard.” But Kyle had to smile. The day was just too wonderful, the miracles too abundant. All her family were gathered and happy, friendly and chatting, as families were supposed to be. “Where's Sarah?”

“She's coming with the rest of the Millers.” Ruthie's younger sister was to be the other bridesmaid. Kenneth glanced at his watch. “I sure hope they get here before the bride.”

“Joel's gone to fetch them,” Martha said. “He insisted. Said he wanted to be the one to host them here. All but Mother Ruth. She's coming with her daughter.”

The pastor slipped in through the side door. He shared a smile with everyone and a handshake with Kenneth. “Everything all right?”

“It will be,” Kenneth replied. “Just as soon as the bride and groom arrive.”

“Always helps to have them around for a wedding,” the pastor agreed. Patrick Langdon was more than the pastor of their church. He was a friend. He had accepted Joel's mission idea and presented it to the church, then helped arrange for the project to be housed in a derelict warehouse owned by a parishioner. Joel and Ruthie had been busy for months turning the top floor into an apartment. Patrick smiled at Kyle. “You look happy enough for it to be your own wedding day.”

“I'm so glad for Joel and Ruthie,” Kyle replied.

He glanced at his watch. “Well, let's hope they get here in time.”

“They'll be here.”

“Then I suppose I'd better get myself ready.” He smiled at the next group of people coming in through the doors, patted Kenneth's arm, and moved off.

Kyle listened to the talk swirl, watching one person after another climb the stairs and exchange greetings and be shown to their seat. All these people from church, new friends and old, sponsors of the mission fellowship, even some of the young people Joel and Ruthie had helped bring off the streets. So much joy, it seemed to Kyle, that the church roof would have to lift off just to hold it all.

She glanced down at her dress. She had indeed gone to Abigail's dressmaker. But she had ordered the seamstress to use a delicate chintz for her bridesmaid's dress, not silk. Kyle wanted a dress that would help her fit into the background. This was to be Ruthie's day. Ruthie's and Joel's.

Kyle recalled the concern the couple had felt over their decision to be married in Washington. Ruthie was not giving up her Mennonite heritage. But she was working with street people, the flower children who were flooding the nation's capital. Dropping out—that was a term they heard more often each day, some of them dropping until they hit rock bottom. For some at least the mission was becoming a lifeline, a last hope.

“Morning Glory” was the name of Joel's project in the Adams-Morgan district of Washington, D.C. The mission was growing bigger all the time, with more young people arriving every day. Joel remained a gentle beacon, while his name and that of the center were passed by word of mouth all over the eastern seaboard.

Joel and Ruthie had made a wonderful team even before the decision to marry. Her personal warmth and caring nature created an atmosphere of trust for the frightened and often suspicious teenagers who found their way to the mission.

It had been hard for Ruthie to go home and tell her parents they would not see their eldest daughter married in traditional Mennonite fashion. But Ruthie and Joel had found a genuine home in this Georgetown church, and Ruthie had wanted it to be the place where she was wed. Kyle had joined Joel in praying for peace and understanding the entire time Ruthie was home. To their surprise there had been no arguments, no quarrels. Instead, Mrs. Miller had risen as soon as her daughter had finished her explanation and had given her a fierce hug. Then she had said that perhaps it would be nice if they made a wedding dress together—a design that would incorporate the simple lines of their traditional dress but with a fabric that would be in keeping with her new life.

Martha's cry of, “Joel is here!” caused a rush from the vestibule to the front doorway and outside as the mission van's doors sprang open. Kyle felt a moment's pang as she stood there watching the Miller family pile out. The past two years had been very hard for them, as it had for the entire Mennonite farming community. Every conversation with Joel and Ruthie seemed to bring with it more bad news. Recently there had even been some talk about selling a tract of farmland that had been in the Miller household for five generations. Kyle hurriedly pushed those thoughts and concerns away. Today was intended for nothing except joy.

Sarah, Ruthie's younger sister, wore a lovely frock whose homespun simplicity softened and adorned the strong farm girl in a way that no store-bought dress ever could. Her head was covered by a small ivory-colored veil, as was Kyle's, both hand stitched by Mrs. Miller and representing many hours of work.

The boys came tumbling out, Simon and Garth and young Jacob, all in their best dark suits and work boots polished until they gleamed. Last of all, Mr. Miller eased his way from the front seat, settling his crutch in place and turning to the church to give them all a smile and a wave.

Mr. Miller made his way up the stairs, pausing halfway to point at Kyle and proclaim, “Look at her, is she not beautiful as the day?”

“Shah, Papa, not so loud.” But Simon's eyes were on Kyle as well. “A good morning to you, Missus. It is grand to see you so happy.”

“Yah, yah, what I say.” Mr. Miller climbed the remaining stairs, his crutch and missing limb not slowing him at all. He stopped to tower over Kyle, his beard more silver than black now, but his voice was as strong as the hand that settled on her shoulder. “I am thinking maybe the sun is rising in your eyes.”

Kyle blushed as she put her own hand on top of his. “Today I am so full of two happinesses, I think I can't hold them both. I was so afraid this day would never come.”

“You and all the family.” He turned to where Joel had parked the van and was now making his way up the stairs toward them. “Yah, that Choel, he run from the altar like a deer from—”

“Papa,” Sarah chided, coming up alongside them. “Better we sit ourselves down and pray for the wedding couple.”

“A good idea, my daughter has.” The hand rose and fell again on Kyle's shoulder. “Health and happiness, full measures of both, pressed down and flowing over.”

Kyle turned back to watch her brother come bounding up the church stairs. There was no indication of ill health that day, not in his beaming face or in the excited energy which filled his spare frame.
My brother
. Two years ago she had first learned of his existence, and still the very word sent a thrill of joy through her.

Kyle drew back inside the church entryway with a little shiver. The morning frost had been melted away by the brilliant sunlight, but she could still feel the fresh winter chill.

Joel entered the church's outer doors, walked straight over and gave Kyle a hug. She had to laugh. Simple gestures still came hard between them, but today there was no room for either confusion or reserve.

Joel leaned back. “Sorry, did I squeeze too hard, little mother?”

“The baby's fine and so am I.” She pulled him back for a second hug before releasing him with another laugh. “Blessings on you and on this day, my brother.”

The Millers' arrival was causing quite a stir among the gathering. Kyle watched the big man proudly lead his boys down to the second row. Simon waited until his father was seated, then placed his wide-brimmed hat on the pew and went over to sit alongside Joel on the front row.

Only Sarah remained behind with Kyle in the vestibule. “All night I spent,” she whispered. “All night long I prayed for Ruthie and Joel. I am so glad for them and their new life together.”

“Ruthie has been the happiest person in the whole world since Joel agreed to the marriage,” Kyle replied.

“You too, you are happy this day.”

“Happy for all of us.” And then, “Oh-h.”

Kenneth was instantly by her side. “Are you all right?”

She managed a wobbly smile for her husband. “I'm . . . I'm fine. Maybe the baby just kicked a nerve or something—”

“Here they are now!” Sarah pointed out to where a car had pulled up in front of the church.

“I'd better go sit down,” Martha Grimes said, tugging on her husband's arm. “Stand up straight, now. Make your son proud.”

Kenneth turned back to search Kyle's face. “Are you all right?” he asked again.