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

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.”
    â€œThe 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.”
    â€œHe 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.”
    â€œDid 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.”
    â€œThen this must we do,” Ruthie replied with forced firmness. “Rest you must, and stop with the moving and cleaning and such as that.”
    â€œBut there’s so much—”
    â€œAnd 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.”
    â€œAll right,” he agreed, loving her all the more.
    â€œStay 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.
    â€œHello, my dear. How are you today?”
    â€œFine, 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