21 

Although hints of spring finally arrived with that last week in April, temperatures remained far below normal. Many nights still touched freezing, giving Ruthie nightmares as she thought of the young people who did not have shelter. All that winter they had brought in as many as they could find. But even now, with spring at least indicated on the mission’s kitchen calendar, it meant the place was bulging at the seams. She dared not think about what the fire marshal might say.

A slight shift in the buzz of conversation caught Ruthie’s attention. She rose from her desk and started moving toward the person silhouetted in the doorway before she had fully worked out who it was. Then the light shifted, and her smile captured her whole face.

“Kyle, how wonderful!” She walked straight up and hugged her. Ruthie ignored the resistance she could feel through the elegant ankle-length coat. She might not be used to embracing people dressed in such finery, but Ruthie made it her practice to hug others, no matter what their station in life. Many of the young people here were frightened by touch. She ignored their fears because hugging them was a way of making them feel welcome, letting them know that what was offered here was more than just a roof and a meal. When they relaxed, as Kyle seemed to be doing now, Ruthie felt as though she had won a battle for her Lord.

She held Kyle at arm’s length. “I’m so glad to see you. You look terrific.” Which was true, so long as she did not look too closely into those empty eyes. “How are you?”

“I should be asking you that,” Kyle said, her smile twisting slightly to one side.

“Oh, I’m so busy these days it’s almost possible to forget the pain,” Ruth returned warmly. “And then I’m too tired not to sleep.” For some reason her words unsettled Kyle, she could tell, so Ruthie slipped one arm through Kyle’s and drew her forward. “Come, let’s go into the chapel. It’s the one quiet place these days.”

They picked their way around several clusters of young people, some on threadbare sofas and others on the floor. Here and there guitars were strumming, the chords and songs forming a cacophony of sound. Kyle asked, “What are they singing?”

“Mostly protest songs about one thing or another. It’s the fashion these days.”

“Doesn’t the noise bother you?”

“Not enough that I would complain. I need to be needed.” She led her guest into the little corner chapel, really just a room off the main chamber and furnished with a small podium, a cross on the wall, and folding chairs. Ruthie waited until they were seated to repeat, “How are you, Kyle?”

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“We’ve missed seeing you around here. I have missed you. And little Samuel—”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” Kyle pulled a handkerchief from her coat pocket and began twisting it between her fingers. “The baby, I mean.”

The way Kyle tightened the handkerchief made Ruthie think she often went through these motions. “What about him, what about Samuel?”

“You must be so busy these days here at the mission. All by yourself, I mean.”

“I have thought about going back to the farm,” Ruthie acknowledged. “But it wouldn’t be possible to leave all that Joel has made. This is his legacy. I feel so close to him here.” Ruthie found herself watching Kyle’s hands and the handkerchief. “I do go up to the farm often. I’m going tomorrow, as a matter of fact, so it’s good that you came—”

“I wasn’t talking about the farm,” Kyle said, her voice as tight as the handkerchief. “I was talking about . . . about Samuel. Your baby.”

“What about him?” Ruthie’s voice held her bewilderment.

“I have a proposal, a solution to your problem,” Kyle said in a rush. “An idea that would help both of you. You would be free to continue Joel’s work here without any worries about the baby, and little Samuel would be raised—”

“What?” Ruthie had to fight to catch a breath.

“He would be raised with every advantage,” Kyle hurried on. “And he has the same family bloodlines as I do. . . .” Her voice drifted to a stop.

Ruth struggled to speak above the turmoil in her heart. “Kyle—”

“I know you want the best for Samuel, and you can’t possibly give the baby a proper upbringing alone. Kyle pressed on. “Especially here. Think of the danger of disease, and you hardly have enough to live on. But if he were with me . . .”

Ruthie forced her legs to straighten and drew herself upright. “If you mean—mean give up Samuel, you must know I could never do that.” She paused and looked directly into Kyle’s face. “I don’t think I understand. . . . I really must be going.”

Kyle seemed to take no notice of Ruthie’s horrified response. She released the handkerchief long enough to hold out her hand toward Ruthie. “Please, Ruthie, give it some thought before you say no,” she said as her sister-in-law shrank from her touch. “Think of everything I could give him.”