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

as she pushed her way out of the room. She frantically fumbled about, reaching with numb fingers and finally gripping the door handle, then slamming it with both hands. The noise echoed up and down the hallway.
    From behind the closed door came the tinkling music of the small merry-go-round on the baby’s bedside table.
    Kyle lurched back down the hall, her hands curled into tight fists. She had not meant to enter that room. She was not sure if she would ever be able to. She certainly could not face it yet.
    She stopped and gripped the banister at the top of the stairs, fighting for control. Her baby was gone. There was nothing to be done about it. She would not think about it. She would not cry anymore. She would push all thoughts and all feelings far down, away from her aching, empty heart.
    Slowly her shoulders straightened. She took a steadier breath. Yes. That was the answer. It was the only solution. She would keep all of it locked down tight. She would not let any of it out. Not ever again.
    The solid wood banister felt cold and hard under her grip. She found security in its solidity.
    The charity . They were waiting downstairs. The sound of voices from the hall below gave her the courage to straighten her skirt and walk to the correct bedroom.
    As she gathered the items hurriedly into her arms, her resolve strengthened. She must guard herself. She must by force of will preserve this facade and never permit anything to shatter it again.
    With a lifted chin and a steady gait, she began her descent of the stairs with the bundle of clothes. She would tell them to return for another donation the following week. The maid could prepare everything in the nursery. Yes. And she could go for a long walk until everything was gone.

    When Kenneth opened their front door, Joel’s first thought was how the man had aged. Looking at his face, it would be easier to believe years had passed, and not just weeks since the baby’s funeral.
    Kenneth worked the muscles of his face into the semblance of a smile. “Hello, everyone,” he said to the group on their doorstep.
    Martha brushed by Joel, arms outstretched. “How are you, dear?” Her genuine care and concern gave the common greeting deep meaning.
    â€œSurviving.” He closed his eyes as she held him close, and Joel reflected that he had never seen a man look so weary. “Taking it one day at a time.”
    â€œNot much else you can do,” Harry said, reaching forward to grip Kenneth’s arm. “We’re right here for you, son.”
    â€œThanks, Harry.” But the voice sounded empty. He turned and gave Ruthie a hug, shook Joel’s hand, then motioned everyone inside. He shut the door behind them and called, “Honey, look who’s here.”
    Kyle’s appearance at the top of the stairs shocked them all to silence. She descended and entered the front hallway without any effort to greet them. Her eyes, cold and utterly blank, made no contact with any of them. Joel searched for words he could offer that might bridge the barriers around his sister.
    Finally Martha forced her way forward and reached out her arms. Kyle’s stiff shoulders and unresponsive demeanor showed she did not wish to be embraced. So Martha settled hands upon her shoulders and leaned forward. Kyle closed her eyes and held herself absolutely still as Martha kissed her cheek.
    Joel watched how Kenneth gazed in deep concern at his wife. The way Kyle endured the greetings from her family clearly pained him. Finally Kenneth said, “Let’s go sit down in the living room.”
    Kyle moved silently in with the others and yet was not there with them. Her face remained blank, her eyes expressionless. Kenneth stood in the doorway and watched as Martha settled down beside her daughter.
    â€œHow are you, dear?” Martha asked, her voice low and full of love.
    â€œI’m fine, thank you.” The words came out as meaningless sounds. “How