29 

Kyle stepped onto the small front porch, raised her hand to knock on the door, then hesitated. She brought the hand back to her mouth and stood there a long moment. She then straightened her shoulders, took a breath, and knocked.

Martha Grimes opened the door, her eyes round with astonishment. “Kyle!”

“Hello . . . hello, Mother.” A great lump of sorrow threatened to close her throat up before she had even started. Kyle swallowed with difficulty. “Am I disturbing you? May I come in?”

“Of course you’re not. And of course you can.” Martha’s smile was tremulous as she pushed the door fully open. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“And surprised, I know.” After so long, she had to be. Kyle stepped into the cramped front room. “Is . . . is Dad here?”

“No, he had an errand downtown.” Martha seemed at a loss to know what to do or say. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Martha drew her across the room to two chairs close together.

“No, thank you. Not today. But I do want to talk with you,” Kyle said as they sat down. She stopped and took another breath. “I want you to know how sorry I am for the way I’ve treated you.”

Martha’s eyes filled with tears. “Kyle, dear, you don’t need to apologize.”

“Yes, I do,” Kyle hurried on, pinching one hand with the other as she tried to keep her composure. “I was horrible. To you, to Kenneth, to Dad, to everybody.”

“You were not horrible, Kyle. You were afraid.”

Kyle looked into Martha’s face for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“Yes, I was afraid. I’ve spent a lot of time these past few days thinking about what you said when you came over to visit me. It was just after Joel and Ruthie’s baby was born. Do you remember?”

Martha bit her lip and gave a jerky little nod.

“You said that I needed to let God in, and let Him help me. And you were right. I had been doing exactly what you said, trying to lock everything up inside, and shut God and everyone else out.”

Martha reached out a hand. “Oh, Kyle honey.”

“I’ve caused the people I love the most in the world so much pain,” Kyle said around a sob. Then she held out her arms.

Martha and Kyle embraced each other with a fierceness that seemed to pull down all the walls between them, all the time, all the distance. Martha whispered, “It’s going to be all right.”

Kyle let the tears flow. She knew what Martha said was true. It was all right. And it was going to stay that way.

“Kyle!” Reverend Patrick Langdon rose quickly to his feet. “Goodness, how long have you been standing there?”

“Not long. May I come in?”

“Of course. Here, take this seat.” He pulled another chair up close to hers and seated himself without taking his eyes from her face. “Kyle, I am very glad to see you.”

“Thank you.” His genuine warmth after her behavior toward him brought a faint blush to her cheeks. “It is good to see you again.”

“How are you?” His smile hinted at more than social courtesy.

“I’m fine. Really.” She cocked her head. “Why are you smiling?”

“Oh, nothing. Well, yes, it is something, I suppose. I was thinking it is the first time in a long while I can ask you that question and look forward to what you have to say.”

“Yes. Yes, that’s true.” She looked down at her hands. “God has been working in me. And Kenneth has helped. Actually, God has used many people to get my attention and point me back to Him. Including you.”

“I’m glad,” he said simply.

“I truly am sorry for my rudeness to you,” she said, her voice low.

“Kyle, don’t even think about it again. I won’t.” And his warm smile told her even more than his words.

She knew he had a hundred questions, but he only said, “What can I do for you?”

“I need to ask a favor.” Kyle opened her purse and extracted an envelope. “I want you to give this to Ruthie.”

He accepted it, then looked at her with a question in his eyes.

“It’s some money, and it needs to be an anonymous gift. I don’t want her to know it’s come from me. If she knew, she might not . . .” A shadow came and went across her features, like clouds pushed by an invisible wind. “Tell her it is for her and Samuel, that she can’t spend it only on the mission. She probably will anyway, but tell her that it’s designated for her and for Samuel.”

He looked from the envelope to her and back again.

“It comes from dividends on Daddy’s stock,” she explained.

“Your stock,” he noted quietly. “Your father left the shares to you.”

Kyle nodded and rose to her feet. “I have to be going. It took longer at the bank than I thought, and I need to get to the post office before it closes.” She hesitated, then straightened her shoulders and said determinedly, “I have a letter to write.”

“Ruthie will be delighted.” Patrick walked over and offered Kyle his hand. “As for myself, I can’t tell you how nice it is to see you smile again.”

She turned for the door. “We’ll see you on Sunday.”

The morning was still young, still holding to the hint of spring freshness. May was a time of transition for farmers, spring in the morning and summer by midafternoon. Joseph Miller was seated in his padded chair on the corner of the porch, watching and listening to the birth of a new day. He missed helping with the morning chores, but still he felt a part of the daily activities. His heart pulsed in time to the farm. It was in his veins.

“Papa?” Sarah came across the porch. “Here’s a letter for you.”

“Thank you, kinder.”

The girl handed him a kitchen knife along with the envelope. “Mama says breakfast will be in fifteen minutes.”

“Good, good. I will be there.” But the return address was already holding his attention. He slit the envelope with the knife and extracted the letter. A slender slip of paper fluttered down to lie upon his shortened leg.

Slowly, slowly, he reached down beside his leg and picked up the slip of paper. His hand trembled as he held it up close, wanting to be sure of what he was seeing.

He unfolded the letter. He stopped to take a breath, then read the first page, turned it over, and had to stop again. Joseph Miller wiped his eyes, then started on the second page.

When he was finished he looked out over the farm for a long moment. Then he called out, “Simon!”

“I’m with the chickens, Papa.”

“Leave the eggs for later. Come here with you right now!”

There was the clatter of a pail, and Simon came running from the chicken house. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong.” Joseph’s answer was loud enough to bring Ruth and Sarah through the front door.

His wife inspected his face. “Why do you make such a fuss on this peaceful morning?”

Joseph kept his gaze on his son. “How much land do you plan for the flowers?”

Simon exchanged a glance with his mother and sister. “But the money—”

“How much land?” Joseph quietly demanded.

“Four acres, Papa.”

“Flowers are a new crop for us. We do not know how much water they will need. Take those down by the stream.”

“But, Papa,” Simon and his sister said in unison. Then Simon finished, “Four acres means sixty thousand plants.”

“Then you best be ordering them, and seeing to some extra hands for the planting,” Joseph replied. He looked at his wife and asked, “Are you to the market this morning?”

“It’s Thursday.” Ruth stared at her husband in wide-eyed disbelief. “I always go on Thursday.”

“I believe I will travel with you. I have some business at the bank. Together we will stop off by the Brueder place on the way home.” Joseph Miller allowed his smile to surface as he waved the check at them. “We have ourselves a wedding to plan.”