Tomorrow's Dream (3 page)

“Oh yes, truly it was nothing. I'm just fine.” She squeezed Kenneth's hand on her arm and turned to watch the bride coming up the walk.

“Oh, Ruthie, she is so beautiful.” There was a catch in Sarah's voice. “And so happy.”

Kyle understood what was behind Sarah's worry. “Be happy for her.”

“Yes, of course, you speak rightly.” Sarah took a shaky breath and straightened her shoulders. “This is her day. I must show joy for her and give the morrow over to our Lord.”

Ruthie's dress was a work of love. Her sturdy frame was made lithe and delicate by the simple lines and white muslin and organdy folds. The sides and back and veil were embroidered with little cream-colored flowers, and it looked as though the coming spring cascaded and flowed with her every step.

Inside the vestibule there was excited whispering. Kenneth offered Mother Ruth his arm.

Mother and daughter first exchanged a long hug, and unshed tears gathered in all the watching eyes. Such joy, such fear, such hope. The combination of emotions filled the air in the vestibule.

Through a crack in the door, the bridal party watched Kenneth seat Mrs. Miller by her husband. As he hurried back to join the bridal party, the church rustled, full of quiet anticipation, like a forest of trees on tiptoe waiting to catch a coming breeze.

Kenneth paused until the two bridesmaids had straightened the back of Ruthie's dress and taken up their bouquets, then gave Harry the nod.

Together Harry and Kenneth drew open the double doors. The organist had been waiting for that signal and began with a pair of loud chords to alert the congregation.

Joel and Simon rose from their places at the front and went to stand beside the waiting minister. The wedding march began, and Ruthie took her first step into the sanctuary. She seemed to float down the aisle, held aloft by the power and the joy which beamed from both her own face and from Joel's. Kyle moved up the aisle behind her, watching the light in Joel's features grow with each step Ruthie took.

Ruthie handed Kyle her bouquet, then turned to look into the face of her beloved Joel. Joel took her arm and stood in front of the minister.

Then Kyle and all the congregation watched as the light the two of them had brought was joined into one.

3 

“Kyle? Honey?”

She struggled to open her eyes. For some reason, that simple effort cost her dearly. Kyle focused upon Kenneth's face hovering above her. Worry lines creased his forehead. “How long have I been asleep?” she murmured.

“I don't know. A while.” He reached down and helped her straighten up. She had slid down the couch until she half sat, half lay with her back twisted unnaturally. “That can't be comfortable. Let me help you upstairs.”

“All right.” But rising was an effort, even with him there to support her. The baby had grown until her abdomen felt tight as a drum, and the weight seemed to bear down on her. She stifled a groan as her back muscles tightened in complaint over having lain crooked for too long.

“Just lean on me.”

She did. It was the only way to rise. Kyle pressed one hand into the small of her back as she moved with him toward the stairs. “How can I sleep so long and still wake up tired?”

“Did you ask the doctor?”

“Yes. He said it was because I was sleeping for two now.”

“That doesn't sound like much of an answer.”

“It was just his way of telling me not to worry. And you.” Kyle gave her husband a smile. “It won't be long now.”

“I hope not. You're already a week overdue.”

As if she had not been aware of that fact every minute of those seven days. But Kyle did not say it. Kenneth did not need another reason to worry. “I never knew it was possible to get this big,” she said ruefully.

He reached the top of the stairs and paused a moment to let her rest from the climb. “Would you like to take a bath? That always helps you feel better.”

“No, I think . . .”

Kenneth stood and held her arm as she bent over slowly, almost collapsing in on herself. She eased back up in careful stages, taking a series of quick panting breaths. His worry lines had deepened with sudden fear. “Honey, what's the matter?”

She turned and gave him the bravest smile she could manage. “I think it's time.”

Kyle stirred restlessly in her sleep, dimly aware that she was in some way not the same person who had opened her eyes to yesterday's dawn. As consciousness returned she realized what that difference was. She was a mother. A mother. At long last she had been granted the desire of her heart. They had a son. A precious, beautiful baby boy. Born during the long, dark hours of the previous night. Kenneth had laid his cheek against her flushed, damp forehead, and they had cried and prayed together. A son, already bearing a name. Charles Kenneth Adams. She could not wait to see him again. To hold him. To cradle him close to her heart.

Nor could she wait for others to see him. Martha and Harry would be so pleased. And Abigail. This beautiful child was bound to bring a smile even to Abigail's features. And Joel. His first nephew. He so loved the little ones. He would welcome this baby boy with the overflowing of his love-filled, ailing heart.

“I can't wait to show him off to Maggie,” Kyle whispered to herself, thinking of the housekeeper who had loved her and raised her since infancy. And Bertrand, her husband. They had retired to a cottage down on the Maryland coast. Kyle smiled at the thought of the straitlaced old gentleman getting down on his hands and knees to play with the baby.

Kyle stirred again. She listened to the tread of nurses in the hall. Soft words of greeting came as they good-naturedly gave news of the night and placed bundled babies into eager arms. “He slept like a top,” or, “She's been impatient to get to Mommy.”

Kyle smiled. Soon they would be bringing her little Charles. Soon she would get to hold him. She chafed with anticipation, especially now that the ether which had gentled the birthing process was gradually leaving her system. Soon she would count his toes and fingers and see if he had his daddy's eyes or his grandfather Harry's strong chin. She could hardly wait.

But each pair of footsteps continued past her door. Impatience soon had her again stirring restlessly. It was so difficult to lie there and wait, while the soft murmurs of other mothers reached her as they cuddled and nursed their own infants. She would have sprung from the bed and searched down the long hall had she not been given strict orders to stay where she was.

When the waiting was almost unbearable, a nurse appeared at her door. She gave a cheery smile and announced, “Mrs. Adams, I've brought your son to say good morning.”

But it was not as Kyle had expected. The woman in her crisp white uniform leaned over the bed but did not offer Kyle the baby. Instead her arms still firmly grasped the blue-blanketed bundle.

As disappointment and confusion swept through her, Kyle reached out a tentative hand and gently eased a finger into the curled fist of her little boy. His small hand felt cold to her touch. His eyes did not open.

“You get some rest now.” The nurse gave another brief smile and moved away from Kyle's bed.

But I want to hold him
, Kyle's heart cried out. Instead she let the tiny hand slip from her fingers. As she watched the nurse depart with her son, she nearly wept.

Was this the usual hospital procedure? Were babies kept apart from their mothers after delivery? She didn't know. She had never gone through the experience before. Kyle felt confused and very unsettled, and wondered vaguely if perhaps her medication had not yet worn off. She lay back onto her pillows, eyes searching the empty doorway. She would have to wait. It was not her turn yet. But how could she ever endure more long hours without holding her son?

Her longing was so intense that her eyes burned and her throat filled. Kyle fought against a rising sense of rebellion over the unfairness. She willed herself to relax upon the hard white surface of the unyielding hospital bed.

4 

Once again Kyle opened her eyes
to find Kenneth bending over her. Surprised, she glanced toward the window to measure the hour. “Is it already time?”

He settled his hand upon her shoulder. “Time for what?”

“Visiting hours. I can't believe I slept the entire day.”

“It's ten.”

“In the morning?”

“Yes.”

Kyle shook her head. Now she was totally confused. “But visiting hours aren't until two.”

Kenneth nodded. For the first time she looked closely into his face. His smile looked a bit forced. A shadow seemed to darken his eyes. Kyle pushed sudden fear away. Perhaps he was as impatient to get acquainted with their son as she was. The waiting was so difficult.

“Did they let you see him?” she asked.

“Yes . . . yes, I saw him after he was born. But I haven't seen him . . . today yet.”

“It makes me a little upset. After all, he is our baby. I don't know why they feel they need to . . .” Kyle tried to rise into a sitting position. It was not at all comfortable, so she lay back down. “Isn't he beautiful? I saw him this morning. The nurse brought him in. If only they'd let me—”

“Kyle,” Kenneth's tone stopped her. “The doctor asked me to come in this morning. He says . . . he needs to talk to us together.”

Kyle's eyes widened. “What about?”

“I don't know. He wouldn't say. Except . . .” The shadows in Kenneth's eyes deepened and darkened, causing her joy to drain away. “The doctor just said that little Charles . . . well, has him concerned.”

Fear gripped her throat and allowed nothing but an echo of his word. “Concerned?”

He took her hand, and his lips smiled, but his gaze did not ease. “I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. Some little thing that needs attention.”

She grasped at the words as she did his hand, because she had to. She forced herself to take a deep breath. “Of course. He's big. And healthy. I saw for myself. Whatever it is, it can't be too serious.”

The words buoyed her up, as though by saying them she could make them so. Kyle went on, “Just think, in a few days we'll be going home. Our baby and us. I can't wait.”

Her thoughts quickly turned to the waiting nursery. It was the one part of their modest home that she had furnished with little thought as to the cost. Kenneth had smiled in good-natured indulgence as she had insisted upon every possible convenience or extravagance for their new baby. Now the room was waiting. Blue and beckoning, for Kyle had secretly agreed with Abigail from the beginning that the child was going to be a boy.

Kenneth nodded in agreement to her words, but his answering smile never reached his eyes.

Footfalls in the hallway brought their attention to the door. But when Dr. Pearce appeared, he did not enter the room alone. Three figures followed closely on one another's heels.

The nurse led the way, carrying an official metal clipboard before her like a shield. Their family doctor followed behind, his gold-rimmed spectacles riding low on a long, pinched nose, his hair the usual disarray of sparse gray curls.

The man who walked at his side was in direct contrast to their comforting family doctor. He was young and intensely focused. In his stark white hospital coat and sharply creased trousers, he looked both important and foreboding. His presence in her room made Kyle feel even more uncomfortable.

“I asked Dr. Saunders to join us,” Dr. Pearce said in his kindly, tired voice. “He is a pediatric surgeon.”

Surgeon? Why? Kyle wanted to ask what he was doing here but could not form the words.

In spite of hospital protocol, Dr. Pearce seated himself on the edge of Kyle's bed. He nodded to Kenneth and said, “Son, why don't you grab yourself a chair.”

Kenneth glanced to where the chair stood on the far wall and settled his arm on Kyle's shoulder. “Thanks, but I'm fine where I am.”

The doctor nodded his understanding. He took a deep breath, as if seeking to draw strength from outside himself. “Kyle,” he began slowly, “we're having a little problem with your baby.”

Kyle felt her whole body freeze. The entire world seemed to seize up tight.
Oh, dear God
was her inner whisper, just a short heart-wrenching prayer for what she did not understand.

“I was called back in by the staff a short time after his delivery. He wasn't getting his color the way they liked. I returned and had a look.” He hesitated again.

The moments crawled like hours as Kyle waited, lying there helpless, holding her breath.

“I am not sure yet exactly why, but his heart does not seem to be functioning as it should.”

Kyle groped blindly for Kenneth's hand and clutched at it with all her might.

“I called in Dr. Saunders. He's, well . . .” Again the hesitation, the searching breath. “The tests are all preliminary at this stage, you understand. But he, too, believes the boy might have some kind of heart condition.”

The young doctor stepped forward. Kyle tore her eyes away from Dr. Pearce's face to look at him. He did not seem quite as distant and official as he had at first. Kyle read compassion in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was soft, yet there was a strength and certainty to his tone that made his words pierce her very soul.

“We often have great success with corrective surgery,” he began.

Kyle heard the consoling tone but could not understand. Her grip on Kenneth's hand tightened until her arm trembled with the strain. Surgery? Surgery for her baby boy? That was unthinkable. What were they talking about? She had seen him. He was fine. Why . . . ?

They were talking on. Kenneth was the only one who seemed able to listen. Kyle looked up and saw him nod, a strained and fearful expression on his face.

“Of course we will need more tests to determine the extent of damage,” she heard the young doctor say through her haze of disbelief.

Was this some bad dream? Was she still under the influence of the anesthetic? Oh, if she could only force herself to wake up and make it all go away!

She heard Kenneth ask, “When?”

“I'd like to get a number of the tests done as quickly as possible.” Dr. Saunders addressed his matter-of-fact words directly to Kenneth now, as though aware that only he was able to comprehend what was being said. “Time is of the utmost importance in such cases. We'll need you to sign the releases before we can proceed. That's why we called you in this morning.”

“Releases for the surgery?” Kyle noted that Kenneth's voice was so hoarse and strained it did not even sound like her husband.

“No. No, we won't be able to do surgery at this point. The baby is not strong enough yet . . . he's really not strong enough.” The strain now seemed to touch the young doctor as his words began to push out, rushing toward what was hardest to say. “Right now we are devoting all our efforts to keeping him with us. By the time he has strengthened and grown a bit we should know the full extent of the damage. Once that's been assessed, then we can look at the feasibility of surgery.” He paused, looking relieved now that the worst was out in the open. “The releases are necessary for our tests.”

But Kenneth was not going to let him off that easily. “I don't understand. If there need to be tests, then why not just go ahead and do them?”

Old Dr. Pearce looked at Kenneth, then Kyle, pain in his eyes. He rubbed a tired hand through his remaining hair. “It is possible,” he said, clearly hating the words he needed to speak, “that we might lose such a fragile baby in the process of assessment.”

Kyle clenched her eyes shut with the same vehemence that she squeezed on Kenneth's hand.
No. No. It isn't possible. Not little Charles. I won't have it. You can't do the tests. You can't
.

But Kenneth was speaking again. “And if the tests aren't done?”

When there was only silence in response, Kyle forced herself to open her eyes. The old doctor sat there beside her, slowly shaking his head. “Son, we wouldn't even think of doing them unless they were absolutely essential. If we don't go ahead, your child has no chance of survival at all. We'd have nowhere near enough knowledge as to how to proceed with treatment.”

Kenneth opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again, forcing out words so heavy they dropped like stones from heaven. “And if you do the tests? What are our chances then?”

Dr. Saunders started to speak, but Dr. Pearce raised his gaze in time to halt the younger man with one quick look. The silence in the room hung like a shroud until Dr. Pearce finally said, “We'll know more after the tests.”

Kenneth nodded, his face bleached white, his jaw stiff.

The nurse pushed her metal pad toward him, pointing at the places where he needed to sign. Without a word Kenneth accepted the pen and wrote on the indicated line.

No
, Kyle wished to scream.
Don't sign it
. But instead of speaking, she turned her face into the stack of pillows and began to sob, her shoulders heaving with the intensity of her pain.

“Kyle.” She heard the doctor's fatherly tone. “Nurse Jacobs has a little needle for you. It will help you get some sleep.”

Kyle was only slightly aware of the hands upon her arm and Kenneth's voice speaking to her from some grim distance somewhere.

“It's going to be all right, darling. God will see us through this. Hang on. Just hang on.”

Hang on
, Kyle repeated to herself. Of course. God would see them through.