Another Homecoming (23 page)

The woman made it down the steps, walked hesitantly forward, and finally whispered, “Katherine?”

Kyle felt her heart twist painfully at the sound of that name. “Mrs. Grimes?”

“Oh, Katie . . .” The woman ran forward, then halted, her arms halfway raised, tears streaming down her face. She reached one trembling hand out, uncertain, helpless to go farther. Kyle found herself unable to see the woman’s features any longer for the tears in her own eyes. She took another tentative step, and suddenly the two of them were hugging, and the woman was stroking Kyle’s hair and her back and crying over and over, “Katie, oh my little Katherine.”

And suddenly Kyle was crying, too. Partly because the search was finally over, partly for all the sadness that had brought her to this place, partly because she had never even known that her name had once been Katherine.

“So this is your young man,” Martha Grimes said for the fifth or sixth time. “How nice. You make such a handsome couple.”

“Thank you. It’s all very new to us,” Kyle admitted with a flush to her cheeks. She shifted, flustered and shy over her discovery of love. While getting her feelings back under control, she let her glance travel about the room. Everything in it spoke of age and hard use. The covers to the sagging furniture were worn, the coffee table scarred. The bookshelves were almost bare, the television an older model with a huge cabinet supporting a small corner screen.

“And you brought him for us to meet.” Martha beamed at Kenneth. “I am so happy for you both.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Mrs. Grimes.”

“Call me Martha, please. What do you do?”

“I work in Kyle’s company. Rothmore Insurance.”

“How nice. It’s wonderful to have things you can share, isn’t it, Harry?”

“Absolutely,” her husband agreed.

Kyle looked from one to the other. It was remarkable, how little interest they seemed to have in the Rothmore wealth. Despite their obvious lack, they listened to her speak about her family, her growing-up years, her experience as the daughter of a successful businessman, with interest only because it was
her
they were happy for. They looked incredibly satisfied with what they had.

She turned back to the woman seated beside her. Martha had not released her hand since embracing her outside. Not even the room’s dimness could disguise the light that shone from the woman’s face. And from that of her husband. Kyle glanced over at the silent man, saw the same gentle light as she had found in the woman’s gaze. “You both look so happy.”

For some reason, her words caused Martha and Harry to exchange a long glance. Harry finally replied with, “Yes. We are. Finally.”

“At long last,” Martha agreed.

Harry turned to Kyle and explained, “It was all Joel’s doing.”

“It was God’s doing,” his wife corrected quietly.

“True, true.” There was another shared glance. “But it was Joel who showed us the way.”

“You’re believers,” Kenneth said. “This is wonderful.”

But Kyle’s mind was still back grappling with the previous statement. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Who is Joel?”

The question brought fresh tears to Martha’s eyes. “Oh, my dear, sweet child. You don’t know.”

“How could she?” Harry murmured.

“No, of course.” Martha sniffed loudly and tried to collect herself.

Kyle demanded weakly, “Know what?”

“You have a brother,” Martha said softly. “His name is Joel.”

“A brother?” The word rocked Kyle. A brother? She had always longed for a brother. Had begged for a brother, and now she was discovering she had a brother that she did not even know. It was all so overwhelming. “Where is he?” she finally managed.

“Oh, he’s not here,” hurried Martha. “I know he’d be as excited as we are if he only . . .”

When Martha’s voice dropped off, Kyle had to take several breaths before she found the strength to whisper, “Doesn’t he know about me?”

Martha’s head lowered and she fiddled with the hankie in her lap. “No,” she said and there was anguish in her voice. “No . . . we never told him.”

“But why . . .” Kyle could not finish her question.

Even so, the words brought a fresh rush of tears from Martha’s eyes. “Losing you was too painful to even talk about.”

“Even between us,” Harry added quietly. Lines like jagged furrows etched his face as he sadly observed his wife. “All those wasted years,” he murmured.

“We could not even talk to each other . . . until . . . recently.” Martha wept as she said the words. “And only after Joel brought us face to face with our need. After the doctor . . .” She could not go on. Sobs shook her shoulders.

Harry crossed to her and put a protective arm about her, comforting her with clumsy yet gentle pats. He looked over at Kyle and said, “It truly is God’s doing, bringing you here now.”

Kyle could sense that something was wrong, something more than the emotion of all the lost years. There was an underlying current of sadness in the home, even amid the evident feeling of peace and the joy of reunion.

“Oh, Harry, must we speak about that now?” Martha said, trying to stop the flowing tears.

“I think so, but if you’d rather . . .”

Martha hesitated, then dropped her eyes and sighed, “No, no, I suppose she should know it all.”

Kyle felt a chill. “Know what?”

“Your brother,” Harry Grimes replied quietly. “He’s not well.”

“His heart,” Martha said and wiped her face anew. “The doctors—they say there’s nothing they can do.” The last part of her sentence was spoken so softly Kyle wondered if she had heard correctly.

No. No
. Kyle fought against the fact of finding a brother and then losing him in nearly the same breath.

“Is he in the hospital?” she heard Kenneth ask on her behalf.

“No, he’s . . .” began Martha.

“Honey—I think we need to start at the beginning and tell her everything.”

Kyle sat and heard the full story. The meeting of two young people just as the country was going to war. The marriage and their few short but happy weeks together. The war. The injury and loss of Harry’s ID. The anguish of a young mother, seemingly widowed, giving up the baby she wanted and loved. Harry’s return to an empty cradle and a grieving wife, suffering through the loss of his health and his profession and the daughter he never knew. The arrival of Joel, whose presence in the home was unable to heal the deep rift that had driven them apart. Martha’s accident and the gradual breaking down of some of the unseen walls. Joel’s friendship with the Millers. His finding a faith that he shared with his parents when they needed it the most. The doctor’s diagnosis had been cruel, crippling, yet with God’s help they were somehow managing to bear it. Now Kyle—their little Katherine—had been brought back into their life. Surely it was God’s doing.

Kyle wiped away tears as she listened to the story. Why had it happened? Why the strange circumstances and twists of fate that had ripped them all apart? And brought them together?

And a brother. A younger brother. As the story wound its way toward her presence here in this room, Kyle found she could hear no more. She simply could not emotionally face anything further. She rose to her feet, shaking her head as if that would help to put things into some kind of focus. “I . . . I need to be going,” she stammered.

“Oh, must you?” Martha rose with her, holding Kyle’s hand as though not wishing to ever let her go. But there was no conviction behind Martha’s protest. Clearly they all felt overwhelmed by the day’s events.

Harry’s wounded leg was giving him trouble as he pushed himself erect. “When will we see you again?”

“Soon,” Kyle promised. She would be back. Just as soon as she could catch her breath and sort things out. But she had to see Joel. Her brother. She had to. “Where will I find Joel?”

Martha looked to her husband for guidance and stammered, “Oh, Harry, might this be too much for his poor heart?”

But Harry was shaking his head. “Emotionally he’s the strongest man I’ve ever met. He wouldn’t be able to do what he’s doing if he wasn’t. He’ll be all right.”

Kyle’s attention was caught and held by a single word.
Man
. Harry had called the baby brother she had never known a man. Again she felt overwhelmed. “I really must be going.” Kenneth held her arm protectively.

The Grimes led the two out to the front porch. Harry’s slight limp continued to pull at Kyle’s attention, as though that leg contained the mystery of the missing years. Kenneth walked alongside her. He did not speak, just remained close enough for her to draw from his steady strength.

“He’s been staying on a farm in Mennonite country, north of Philadelphia,” Harry explained. “He and a fellow from the family, they do charity work together, I guess you’d call it.”

“Joel’s such a wonderful boy,” Martha said proudly. “I’ll show you his letters next time you come. They’re so full of love and warmth they just make you want to weep.”

“Last time we talked, Joel said he’s found needs he didn’t even know existed.” Harry leaned against the pillar by the front steps, one strong arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Joel came home for a while, but he couldn’t settle back in here. Kept on about the needs out there and something he wanted to do before—while he still could.”

“A mission, he said it was,” Martha added. “A calling from God. His last letter said he felt he had discovered what life was really all about.”

“They work with some group that helps all these kids piling into the cities,” Harry said. Clearly he was troubled by the thought. “Runaways and the like.”

Kenneth spoke for the first time. “My church has become involved in that as well. It’s a growing problem down here in Washington.”

Martha was still unwilling to let go of Kyle’s hand. “I miss my boy,” she confessed quietly.

“He’s doing God’s work,” Harry intoned quietly. “You can’t read his letters and doubt that for a second. But it’s hard on both of us, him being gone when we don’t know how long . . .”

“Here.” Martha reached into her cardigan and brought out a pencil and a scrap of paper. She released Kyle’s hand long enough to scribble hastily, then hand over the paper. “This is the address for the Millers’ farm. They don’t have a phone. I’ll be sending him a letter today, telling him everything, but why don’t you write to Joel yourself?”

“Thank you,” Kyle said, accepting the slip, yet knowing she could not wait for an exchange of letters.

“I know how busy you folks must be,” Martha said. “But do you think we could invite you back for a meal next week?”

Kyle saw the entreaty in the woman’s eyes and knew she could refuse her nothing. “Whenever you like,” she said, squeezing the small hand. “That would be wonderful.”

The trip back to Washington was made in nearly absolute silence. Kyle had so much to absorb, she felt as though she could not hold on to any thought for more than an instant. The impressions and feelings and images whirled through her mind as she leaned her head against the back of the seat.

Kenneth obviously felt her need for quiet. Every once in a while he would reach over and pat her hand, not speaking, just reminding her that he was there. Each time, she felt her mind and her spirit calmed by his understanding and care.

Gradually, a single thread began to run more clearly through her thoughts. Over and over she returned to how faith had such impact in the lives around her—in her father, Lawrence, in her adored Bertie and Maggie, even when she didn’t recognize it. In Kenneth, and now in the Grimes family. . . .

Strange how she would think of this now. Or perhaps not, she reflected, staring out at the city. The power of God had been reflected in so much that day—the way Harry and Martha described the change in their relationship, for one. She did not doubt for a moment that what they had told her was true.

This power of faith also was evident in Kenneth’s peace, his silent understanding, his patience. All of these were offerings in a way. She had never thought of them in that sense, but it was true. He offered to her what he had learned through faith.

As they drove beneath trees dressed in the final flecks of autumn gold, she decided it was time she offered him something in return. But what? She looked over at Kenneth, this dear man who had seen her through so much, and wondered what on earth she and this fragile faith of hers had to give.