Tomorrow's Dream by Janette Oke, Davis Bunn Page A

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?”
    â€œI got caught up with work. We’re so understaffed these days, and there are more kids all the time.”
    â€œAnd they are working you to death.” His dark eyes flashed with more than professional care. “Have you told Ruthie yet?”
    â€œI can’t. She’s up at the farm again. They’re really having financial troubles, and—”
    â€œThis 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.”
    â€œYou 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?”
    â€œSaturday afternoon.”
    â€œI’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?”
    â€œFine. The baby is kicking up a storm.”
    â€œThen you don’t have any reason to delay this.”
    Joel sighed his defeat. “I’ll tell her.”
    â€œAs 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.”
    â€œOh. 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.”
    â€œThat’s exactly what I thought.”
    â€œShe 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?”
    â€œHard.” The