THE LOST BOY
by Melissa Jooty (email me at cosmic_quest@yahoo.com)
CHAPTER ONE- The Lost Children
Ten Years Later...
Sam was bored. He had finished all his homework ahead of his twin brother so was now at a loose end as what to do to occupy himself. He considered going to his room to read finish reading the book he had found in the basement a week ago but that thought led him to another idea.
For that book held a secret, a secret he knew would upset his mother if she ever caught him with it. Inside the front cover of novel, written neatly though obviously by the hand of a child, was inscribed the name 'Simon Camden, age seven'. It was a name which instilled a sense of mystery and intrigue in Sam; his elder brother, who's death had brought a heavy darkness to the family that even an eight-year-old child could sense.
And so, for reasons he couldn't really define, Sam found himself standing in Simon's bedroom. Today he was lucky, the majority of the time his mother kept the room locked up and out-of-bounds to anyone but her and, on occasion, his fifteen-year-old sister Ruthie.
His twin brother David, between his sports and many friends, had little time or interest in a dead kid, especially one who died before they were even born. Sam, on the other hand, was the inquisitive twin who couldn't resist his curiosity and what could be more mysterious than a dead brother?
And one of the few places in the house that still carried Simon's essence was his bedroom.
His mother had cleaned up every trace of Simon from the rest of the house but the room remained untouched, like a museum or shrine dedicated to her late son. Sam would sometimes sneak into the room, a chill creeping through him as he would take in the half-built Mecchano set and comics that lay strewn on the bed.
As he grew older, Sam's own interest in comic books coupled with his uncanny lucky streak and his quick-to-smile nature often elicted comments that he was very much like his long gone brother. For his part, the boy wasn't sure how he felt about the comparison. Sometimes, he was glad of the special connection to the brother he would never meet then there were other times, when his mother was in a mood or his father disappeared into his study to stare at the old photos, he hated Simon for dying and taking away his parent's smiles.
Unfortunately, his parents were often in sullen moods these days. One night, when his adult siblings Matt and Mary were visiting, Sam had overheard them quietly talking about what life was before Simon died, when the home was happy and the family intact.
Sam sighed, moving backwards towards the door when he suddenly back into someone. He gasped, his eyes widening as he intuitively knew exactly how that person was.
"What are you doing in here?!" The boy whirled around to meet the cold fury of his mother. "How many times have I told you never to come in here." It wasn't a question.
"I...I'm sorry, Mom," the eight-year-old stuttered.
His mother took him by the arm, pulling him from the room then locking the door shut behind them. She then turned her full attention back to her son. "I mean it, if I ever catch you in there I'll-"
"You'll what- make me go live in the garage?" Sam didn't know what possessed him to say that, to hurt his mother like that.
For a moment, she looked as if she was going to slap him then his father's calm voice called out. "Samuel, why don't you go to your room, son?" He looked past his mom to take in his father's understanding gaze.
"Okay, Dad."
He didn't need to be told twice, the boy quickly darted past his mother and to his own room across the hall, shutting the door behind him. He threw himself onto his bed, shifting up to the headboard then bringing his knees up to his chin. Outside he could hear his parents arguing over him and the room itself, not the first time and certainly not the last.
David, who was sitting at the desk having abandoned his homework for a baseball magazine, turned in his chair to exchange a glance with his twin. "Sometimes it makes you wonder which kid she'd prefer alive, huh?"
Sam just scowled, unable to feel any true anger towards his brother. After all, David just voiced what he thought every single day he passed the locked door to Simon's bedroom.
*****************************
"Why do you always protect them, Eric?"
Eric heaved a weary sigh as Annie stalked into their bedroom after him. It seemed that was all he ever did sometimes. Was this what their marriage had come to- Annie possessively attacking anyone she perceived as coming between her and her memories while he ran interference between her and the family?
Lucky for them, Matt and Mary did not have to wait long before they could escape the house for college but the younger children were not so fortunate to have age on their side. No wonder David spent most of his time away from the house, only eight years old and already looking at out-of-state college prospectuses, while the sensitive Sam had developed an almost obsessive interest in the boy whose absence had pulled the family apart.
"Sam's just curious, Simon *was* his brother too, Annie, and he has the right to remember him."
"Simon was d...gone two years before he was born!" She never could associate Simon's name and death together in the same sentence, even after ten years.
"Simon might have died ten years ago, Annie, but he has never been gone. Those boys have never been allowed to forget that, Simon is as much a presence in their lives as he would have been if he were still alive. Only, this way is not healthy for them or for you."
Annie seemed stunned by his speech. He'd always tried to keep his patience when it came to her grief and her ways of coping with the accident. But instead of gradually recovering from their son's loss, her bleak emotions often appeared to overwhelm her increasingly as the years passed, affecting her relationship with him and the children.
The twins, Matt, Mary...Lucy.
Only Ruthie could succeed in communicating properly with his wife these days; the girl whose grief paralleled her mother's. Simon had been the closest to the then five-year-old, the age gap between the pair and the older three being enough to separate them. However, while Annie acted out her grief, Ruthie distanced herself and withdrew emotionally from everyone who loved her.
"How can you say that?" Annie asked, her voice barely audible. "Simon was..."
"Simon was *my* son too, you know, and I loved him just as much as you did." His voice cracked but he forced himself to continue. "There comes a time when we have to let him rest. I don't know why a ten-year-old child was chosen to die, I...I just don't know but it's time to let him go, let him rest and concentrate on the living. Like those two eight-year-old boys who not only never knew their brother but they don't know their mother."
Those poor boys, born almost two years after Simon's death. Occasionally Eric wondered if his wife viewed their birth as an unwelcome flicker of happiness at a time when all she wanted was to wallow in her misery. He tried to make it up to them, lavashing the attention they so lacked from their mother and encourage Annie to make more of an effort for Sam and David's sake.
But much of the time, she resisted as if unable to invest her feelings in their youngest sons either fearful of becoming close in a world where a child was not safe from the clutches of death, or worried to love another child in a misplaced sense of guilt and loyalty to Simon.
All these years of conselling bereaved parents and never would he have imagined what the death of a child could do to a mother or father, touching every aspect of that one's life. No parent ever considered burying their own child for with such an unnatural act they were also burying their own hopes and dreams for the future. It was so hard to overcome the shock of such a short life being snuffed out like a light and remember the living still went on.
Annie sat down hard on the bed. "Of course I love Sam and David, they're my sons."
He didn't want to hurt any more than she had been through. "I know, but they're also very young, they need their mother to be there for them..."
"Not pining for a ghost you mean." Those were harsh words but all the fight was gone from her.
"We'll always love Simon, he'll always have a place in our hearts and in our family. The twins need us more than he does now. We need to start rebuilding this family, we can't let this hurt us any more. Our boy would never have wanted his loss to be our fall."
There was a long moment of silence before Annie finally broke the hush. "It's Connor's birthday today."
So she *had* remembered. Then again, how could she forget?
Eric followed her eyes to where they were focused on the array of photographs adorning the dressing table. The left side was more of a shrine dedicated to Simon with those photos depicting their son from infancy to the last one taken at his tenth birthday party, two months before his death. There were no other pictures of the boy in the house, in many ways this was Annie's attempt to almost hoard his memory away in a vain effort to ease her pain. On the right of the table, however, were more general family pictures of the children and family portraits. One stood out as taking pride in the collection; it was recent, a gold-plated framed photo of a fair-haired infant grinning toothlessly at the camera.
Connor Simon Camden, their first and only grandchild now a full year old and yet they'd never once set eyes upon the little boy. Of course, his mother- their middle daughter Lucy- had good intention to keep her son away from them. There was still so much unresolved hurt that lay between parents and daughter.
"Yes, I can't believe it's been a year."
"I hope Ruthie remembered to send a card." His wife's voice was soft, wistful and heavy with remorse.
"She did, I saw her writing a cute 'Winnie The Pooh' card for him."
For more than five years, Ruthie was the only family member who Lucy allowed contact with. Every day since that fateful summer, Eric had to fight down all his instincts of demanding her address from his youngest daughter, who had chosen loyalty to her sister over confessing to her parents. On the other hand, he also knew that if he did succeed in wearing down Ruthie and tracing Lucy's address, she would just take off and they would probably lose whatever minute chance they had to see Lucy and Connor forever.
"D-do you blame me?" Annie struggled to meet his gaze before her eyes skittered away. It was almost enough to bring tears to his own eyes; what had happened to the strong willed woman he had married? "Do you blame me for driving her away?"
It was the first time she had ever found the courage to voice that question.
Part of Eric, the fallible human part who only wanted his daughter back in his arms, wanted to scream 'Yes, of course, I do!'. In many ways, it was largely due to Annie's cold attitude which saw Lucy's once infinite tolerance snap. He could still remember the events leading up to the day Lucy walked out of the family without a backward glance with a striking clarity.
That summer had been tough for all of them, the twins were screaming toddlers and the older children were all in their adolescence coping with two parents in perpetual mourning; looking back, it was all a recipe for a disaster waiting to happen...and it did.
Mary, then a sullen nineteen-year-old with a chip on her shoulder, had just returned from Buffalo and finally ready to put her delinquency behind her. Annie, unable to cope with Mary's absence, had been so gratified to have their eldest daughter home again that her desperation to have the family intact only succeeded in pushing Matt, Lucy and Ruthie away. The trio had difficulties with Annie's temporary favouritism of Mary the prodigal daughter and, in turn, made their discontent known.
That was when Annie forced the three into the make-shift 'apartment' of the garage, hence Sam's cruel taunt. If only Eric had said something then maybe things would not have deteriorated so. Matt and Ruthie coped reasonably well, though with understandable anger. Lucy was a different story; the seventeen-year-old had finally tired of years of being punished when Mary's plans went haywire or watching her sister being praised when she deserved to be disciplined.
Annie was stunned when Social Services visited to inform them that Lucy, then still a minor, had asked to be taken into care due to parental neglect. It was the sharp shock his wife needed to understand what she had put the children through. But it was too late to make amends; at Lucy's request, Social Services had already moved their daughter to another city knowing how easily they could track her down with his connections.
Lucy was placed in a foster home until her eighteenth birthday, only five months later and by which time it was too late to petition the courts to grant back custody. Once graduating school, she applied for a scholarship to some Californian university and was also working to provide for herself. And neither she nor Social Services had any intention of revealing her whereabouts. It took a further sixteen months before she contacted Ruthie, making it abundantly clear to the then eleven-year-old was the only one she was interested in communicating with although she did send birthday and Christmas cards for Matt and the twins.
Of course, Eric knew it was not only his wife to be blamed for Lucy's sudden departure, both he and Mary had their own parts to play. Mary, still unable to forgive herself, for being so smug after her atrocious behaviour and moreso, it was his fault for not doing his job properly. For not being the father Lucy needed to defend her, for not being the husband who forced his wife to seek help.
No, he couldn't lay the blame on Annie. Not when he was so largely at fault too. And he could just have the faith to believe that one day Lucy would allow them to be a part of her and her son's life.
"No...No, I don't blame you. We should both have seen her pain; I'm her father, I should have done more."
"Do you think she'll ever come home?"
Eric nodded, his faith in his daughter's ability to one day forgive unflinching. "When she's ready, she will...And when she does, we'll be here for her."
Annie gave him a watery smile before pulling him into her embrace. "Oh Eric..." she murmured. He could feel the moiture of her tears soaking into his shirt. "I miss them so much."
It was one of the first times in a long time since she had allowed him close. And together, they wept for their lost children; a cleansing cry long overdue. It was the first step in rebuilding the family as the Camdens' rose out from the ashes of ten years of hurt and grief.
Cried out, they stood in a comfortable silence for a few minutes still held in each other's arms. Finally, Eric cleared his throat and moved back slightly so he could capture his wife's eyes.
"You know, Joe Young- the university's special programs co-ordinator- mentioned that he was having problems finding a room in residence for an exchange student coming to the States next week. I haven't said anything to him but I was thinking maybe he could stay here...say until the problem is cleared up. With the older kids away, there's plenty of room."
Before he was afraid to even hint at such a suggestion but he felt they were at last on their way to smoother ground. He recalled the months that Robbie had stayed with them as an unofficial foster child had been the most peaceful period for the family during the entire decade. Perhaps having another person, someone who was detached from the family and coming without preconceptions of how they should be acting, was exactly what was needed. This young student would only require basic needs, like meals and laundry, but the family wouldn't have to invest emotionally.
Annie did not seem to certain. "I don't know, Eric." She shook her head slowly. "You do remember the trouble we had with Pierre."
"Yes, but Pierre was just in high school. This kid is twenty-one, he's already completed his medical degree and is taking a year out before doing his post-grad. He's hardly a little boy. And there won't be any language barrier since he comes from Scotland. Plus, this time we don't have two hormone-filled teenage girls in the house."
Granted, Ruthie was the teenage girl this time around, nevertheless she carried herself with more maturity and reserve than her sisters ever did. Eric could never imagine her making such a fuss over a boy, no matter who he was or what he looked like. And if she did, well, he would delighted to see his daughter opening up, he always worried that she was too aloof with her peers.
"You sound like you've been doing your homework on this boy," Annie said in amused admonishment. He smiled, grateful to hear humour in her voice for the first time in a long time. Taking that as a good sign, Eric gave her a plaintive look and she sighed. "I'll think about it...But no promises."
He grinned. "You won't regret it, this is just what we need."
"Yeah, one more pile of laundry," she muttered, however, the statement lacked the venom she normally injected in her sarcasm.
Yes, Eric was able to see his family taking it's first faltering steps back from the abyss of death and pain. He even hoped this student would have the patience and desire to maybe provide the twins with a sense of big brotherly support, since Matt hardly had the time to be anymore than an absent brother to them.
Things were never going to be normal, Eric accepted that just as he accepted it was unfair to place so much hope onto some strange kid who was just staying a handful of days but he could feel that change for the better was on the horizon. Little did he know the exact extent of those changes were going to have upon the Camdens' and indeed upon everything they had believed in...
CHAPTER ONE- The Lost Children
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Well, what did you guys think? Should I continue? Please feel free to email me or review directly at FFN to tell me what you think of the story.
by Melissa Jooty (email me at cosmic_quest@yahoo.com)
CHAPTER ONE- The Lost Children
Ten Years Later...
Sam was bored. He had finished all his homework ahead of his twin brother so was now at a loose end as what to do to occupy himself. He considered going to his room to read finish reading the book he had found in the basement a week ago but that thought led him to another idea.
For that book held a secret, a secret he knew would upset his mother if she ever caught him with it. Inside the front cover of novel, written neatly though obviously by the hand of a child, was inscribed the name 'Simon Camden, age seven'. It was a name which instilled a sense of mystery and intrigue in Sam; his elder brother, who's death had brought a heavy darkness to the family that even an eight-year-old child could sense.
And so, for reasons he couldn't really define, Sam found himself standing in Simon's bedroom. Today he was lucky, the majority of the time his mother kept the room locked up and out-of-bounds to anyone but her and, on occasion, his fifteen-year-old sister Ruthie.
His twin brother David, between his sports and many friends, had little time or interest in a dead kid, especially one who died before they were even born. Sam, on the other hand, was the inquisitive twin who couldn't resist his curiosity and what could be more mysterious than a dead brother?
And one of the few places in the house that still carried Simon's essence was his bedroom.
His mother had cleaned up every trace of Simon from the rest of the house but the room remained untouched, like a museum or shrine dedicated to her late son. Sam would sometimes sneak into the room, a chill creeping through him as he would take in the half-built Mecchano set and comics that lay strewn on the bed.
As he grew older, Sam's own interest in comic books coupled with his uncanny lucky streak and his quick-to-smile nature often elicted comments that he was very much like his long gone brother. For his part, the boy wasn't sure how he felt about the comparison. Sometimes, he was glad of the special connection to the brother he would never meet then there were other times, when his mother was in a mood or his father disappeared into his study to stare at the old photos, he hated Simon for dying and taking away his parent's smiles.
Unfortunately, his parents were often in sullen moods these days. One night, when his adult siblings Matt and Mary were visiting, Sam had overheard them quietly talking about what life was before Simon died, when the home was happy and the family intact.
Sam sighed, moving backwards towards the door when he suddenly back into someone. He gasped, his eyes widening as he intuitively knew exactly how that person was.
"What are you doing in here?!" The boy whirled around to meet the cold fury of his mother. "How many times have I told you never to come in here." It wasn't a question.
"I...I'm sorry, Mom," the eight-year-old stuttered.
His mother took him by the arm, pulling him from the room then locking the door shut behind them. She then turned her full attention back to her son. "I mean it, if I ever catch you in there I'll-"
"You'll what- make me go live in the garage?" Sam didn't know what possessed him to say that, to hurt his mother like that.
For a moment, she looked as if she was going to slap him then his father's calm voice called out. "Samuel, why don't you go to your room, son?" He looked past his mom to take in his father's understanding gaze.
"Okay, Dad."
He didn't need to be told twice, the boy quickly darted past his mother and to his own room across the hall, shutting the door behind him. He threw himself onto his bed, shifting up to the headboard then bringing his knees up to his chin. Outside he could hear his parents arguing over him and the room itself, not the first time and certainly not the last.
David, who was sitting at the desk having abandoned his homework for a baseball magazine, turned in his chair to exchange a glance with his twin. "Sometimes it makes you wonder which kid she'd prefer alive, huh?"
Sam just scowled, unable to feel any true anger towards his brother. After all, David just voiced what he thought every single day he passed the locked door to Simon's bedroom.
*****************************
"Why do you always protect them, Eric?"
Eric heaved a weary sigh as Annie stalked into their bedroom after him. It seemed that was all he ever did sometimes. Was this what their marriage had come to- Annie possessively attacking anyone she perceived as coming between her and her memories while he ran interference between her and the family?
Lucky for them, Matt and Mary did not have to wait long before they could escape the house for college but the younger children were not so fortunate to have age on their side. No wonder David spent most of his time away from the house, only eight years old and already looking at out-of-state college prospectuses, while the sensitive Sam had developed an almost obsessive interest in the boy whose absence had pulled the family apart.
"Sam's just curious, Simon *was* his brother too, Annie, and he has the right to remember him."
"Simon was d...gone two years before he was born!" She never could associate Simon's name and death together in the same sentence, even after ten years.
"Simon might have died ten years ago, Annie, but he has never been gone. Those boys have never been allowed to forget that, Simon is as much a presence in their lives as he would have been if he were still alive. Only, this way is not healthy for them or for you."
Annie seemed stunned by his speech. He'd always tried to keep his patience when it came to her grief and her ways of coping with the accident. But instead of gradually recovering from their son's loss, her bleak emotions often appeared to overwhelm her increasingly as the years passed, affecting her relationship with him and the children.
The twins, Matt, Mary...Lucy.
Only Ruthie could succeed in communicating properly with his wife these days; the girl whose grief paralleled her mother's. Simon had been the closest to the then five-year-old, the age gap between the pair and the older three being enough to separate them. However, while Annie acted out her grief, Ruthie distanced herself and withdrew emotionally from everyone who loved her.
"How can you say that?" Annie asked, her voice barely audible. "Simon was..."
"Simon was *my* son too, you know, and I loved him just as much as you did." His voice cracked but he forced himself to continue. "There comes a time when we have to let him rest. I don't know why a ten-year-old child was chosen to die, I...I just don't know but it's time to let him go, let him rest and concentrate on the living. Like those two eight-year-old boys who not only never knew their brother but they don't know their mother."
Those poor boys, born almost two years after Simon's death. Occasionally Eric wondered if his wife viewed their birth as an unwelcome flicker of happiness at a time when all she wanted was to wallow in her misery. He tried to make it up to them, lavashing the attention they so lacked from their mother and encourage Annie to make more of an effort for Sam and David's sake.
But much of the time, she resisted as if unable to invest her feelings in their youngest sons either fearful of becoming close in a world where a child was not safe from the clutches of death, or worried to love another child in a misplaced sense of guilt and loyalty to Simon.
All these years of conselling bereaved parents and never would he have imagined what the death of a child could do to a mother or father, touching every aspect of that one's life. No parent ever considered burying their own child for with such an unnatural act they were also burying their own hopes and dreams for the future. It was so hard to overcome the shock of such a short life being snuffed out like a light and remember the living still went on.
Annie sat down hard on the bed. "Of course I love Sam and David, they're my sons."
He didn't want to hurt any more than she had been through. "I know, but they're also very young, they need their mother to be there for them..."
"Not pining for a ghost you mean." Those were harsh words but all the fight was gone from her.
"We'll always love Simon, he'll always have a place in our hearts and in our family. The twins need us more than he does now. We need to start rebuilding this family, we can't let this hurt us any more. Our boy would never have wanted his loss to be our fall."
There was a long moment of silence before Annie finally broke the hush. "It's Connor's birthday today."
So she *had* remembered. Then again, how could she forget?
Eric followed her eyes to where they were focused on the array of photographs adorning the dressing table. The left side was more of a shrine dedicated to Simon with those photos depicting their son from infancy to the last one taken at his tenth birthday party, two months before his death. There were no other pictures of the boy in the house, in many ways this was Annie's attempt to almost hoard his memory away in a vain effort to ease her pain. On the right of the table, however, were more general family pictures of the children and family portraits. One stood out as taking pride in the collection; it was recent, a gold-plated framed photo of a fair-haired infant grinning toothlessly at the camera.
Connor Simon Camden, their first and only grandchild now a full year old and yet they'd never once set eyes upon the little boy. Of course, his mother- their middle daughter Lucy- had good intention to keep her son away from them. There was still so much unresolved hurt that lay between parents and daughter.
"Yes, I can't believe it's been a year."
"I hope Ruthie remembered to send a card." His wife's voice was soft, wistful and heavy with remorse.
"She did, I saw her writing a cute 'Winnie The Pooh' card for him."
For more than five years, Ruthie was the only family member who Lucy allowed contact with. Every day since that fateful summer, Eric had to fight down all his instincts of demanding her address from his youngest daughter, who had chosen loyalty to her sister over confessing to her parents. On the other hand, he also knew that if he did succeed in wearing down Ruthie and tracing Lucy's address, she would just take off and they would probably lose whatever minute chance they had to see Lucy and Connor forever.
"D-do you blame me?" Annie struggled to meet his gaze before her eyes skittered away. It was almost enough to bring tears to his own eyes; what had happened to the strong willed woman he had married? "Do you blame me for driving her away?"
It was the first time she had ever found the courage to voice that question.
Part of Eric, the fallible human part who only wanted his daughter back in his arms, wanted to scream 'Yes, of course, I do!'. In many ways, it was largely due to Annie's cold attitude which saw Lucy's once infinite tolerance snap. He could still remember the events leading up to the day Lucy walked out of the family without a backward glance with a striking clarity.
That summer had been tough for all of them, the twins were screaming toddlers and the older children were all in their adolescence coping with two parents in perpetual mourning; looking back, it was all a recipe for a disaster waiting to happen...and it did.
Mary, then a sullen nineteen-year-old with a chip on her shoulder, had just returned from Buffalo and finally ready to put her delinquency behind her. Annie, unable to cope with Mary's absence, had been so gratified to have their eldest daughter home again that her desperation to have the family intact only succeeded in pushing Matt, Lucy and Ruthie away. The trio had difficulties with Annie's temporary favouritism of Mary the prodigal daughter and, in turn, made their discontent known.
That was when Annie forced the three into the make-shift 'apartment' of the garage, hence Sam's cruel taunt. If only Eric had said something then maybe things would not have deteriorated so. Matt and Ruthie coped reasonably well, though with understandable anger. Lucy was a different story; the seventeen-year-old had finally tired of years of being punished when Mary's plans went haywire or watching her sister being praised when she deserved to be disciplined.
Annie was stunned when Social Services visited to inform them that Lucy, then still a minor, had asked to be taken into care due to parental neglect. It was the sharp shock his wife needed to understand what she had put the children through. But it was too late to make amends; at Lucy's request, Social Services had already moved their daughter to another city knowing how easily they could track her down with his connections.
Lucy was placed in a foster home until her eighteenth birthday, only five months later and by which time it was too late to petition the courts to grant back custody. Once graduating school, she applied for a scholarship to some Californian university and was also working to provide for herself. And neither she nor Social Services had any intention of revealing her whereabouts. It took a further sixteen months before she contacted Ruthie, making it abundantly clear to the then eleven-year-old was the only one she was interested in communicating with although she did send birthday and Christmas cards for Matt and the twins.
Of course, Eric knew it was not only his wife to be blamed for Lucy's sudden departure, both he and Mary had their own parts to play. Mary, still unable to forgive herself, for being so smug after her atrocious behaviour and moreso, it was his fault for not doing his job properly. For not being the father Lucy needed to defend her, for not being the husband who forced his wife to seek help.
No, he couldn't lay the blame on Annie. Not when he was so largely at fault too. And he could just have the faith to believe that one day Lucy would allow them to be a part of her and her son's life.
"No...No, I don't blame you. We should both have seen her pain; I'm her father, I should have done more."
"Do you think she'll ever come home?"
Eric nodded, his faith in his daughter's ability to one day forgive unflinching. "When she's ready, she will...And when she does, we'll be here for her."
Annie gave him a watery smile before pulling him into her embrace. "Oh Eric..." she murmured. He could feel the moiture of her tears soaking into his shirt. "I miss them so much."
It was one of the first times in a long time since she had allowed him close. And together, they wept for their lost children; a cleansing cry long overdue. It was the first step in rebuilding the family as the Camdens' rose out from the ashes of ten years of hurt and grief.
Cried out, they stood in a comfortable silence for a few minutes still held in each other's arms. Finally, Eric cleared his throat and moved back slightly so he could capture his wife's eyes.
"You know, Joe Young- the university's special programs co-ordinator- mentioned that he was having problems finding a room in residence for an exchange student coming to the States next week. I haven't said anything to him but I was thinking maybe he could stay here...say until the problem is cleared up. With the older kids away, there's plenty of room."
Before he was afraid to even hint at such a suggestion but he felt they were at last on their way to smoother ground. He recalled the months that Robbie had stayed with them as an unofficial foster child had been the most peaceful period for the family during the entire decade. Perhaps having another person, someone who was detached from the family and coming without preconceptions of how they should be acting, was exactly what was needed. This young student would only require basic needs, like meals and laundry, but the family wouldn't have to invest emotionally.
Annie did not seem to certain. "I don't know, Eric." She shook her head slowly. "You do remember the trouble we had with Pierre."
"Yes, but Pierre was just in high school. This kid is twenty-one, he's already completed his medical degree and is taking a year out before doing his post-grad. He's hardly a little boy. And there won't be any language barrier since he comes from Scotland. Plus, this time we don't have two hormone-filled teenage girls in the house."
Granted, Ruthie was the teenage girl this time around, nevertheless she carried herself with more maturity and reserve than her sisters ever did. Eric could never imagine her making such a fuss over a boy, no matter who he was or what he looked like. And if she did, well, he would delighted to see his daughter opening up, he always worried that she was too aloof with her peers.
"You sound like you've been doing your homework on this boy," Annie said in amused admonishment. He smiled, grateful to hear humour in her voice for the first time in a long time. Taking that as a good sign, Eric gave her a plaintive look and she sighed. "I'll think about it...But no promises."
He grinned. "You won't regret it, this is just what we need."
"Yeah, one more pile of laundry," she muttered, however, the statement lacked the venom she normally injected in her sarcasm.
Yes, Eric was able to see his family taking it's first faltering steps back from the abyss of death and pain. He even hoped this student would have the patience and desire to maybe provide the twins with a sense of big brotherly support, since Matt hardly had the time to be anymore than an absent brother to them.
Things were never going to be normal, Eric accepted that just as he accepted it was unfair to place so much hope onto some strange kid who was just staying a handful of days but he could feel that change for the better was on the horizon. Little did he know the exact extent of those changes were going to have upon the Camdens' and indeed upon everything they had believed in...
CHAPTER ONE- The Lost Children
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Well, what did you guys think? Should I continue? Please feel free to email me or review directly at FFN to tell me what you think of the story.