Chapter Four

The dreary, rain gray sky seemed to fit the day perfectly. A light drizzle fell over the ground, soaking into the earth and dampening the clothing of those standing outside the tent that covered the coffin and immediate family.

Ruthie fidgeted on the hard, plastic chair. It was uncomfortable and her butt was quickly growing sore. With surprisingly clear eyes, she looked around at the mourners that had gathered. Nearly the whole town had showed up to mourn the death of one of their finest ministers. Her gaze lingered on Martin, who stood, hands clasped in front of him and eyes staring stoically ahead, just to the left of the coffin. He was a pallbearer, and looked stunningly handsome in his somber suit and tie.

The minister's words floated over Ruthie, never quite reaching her ears. She felt guilty, thinking of Martin when she should be focusing on her father's death. Her mind would not focus on the present, however, and continually flicked back to the night before when Martin had so gently kissed her forehead. The kiss had played out over and over in her mind, each time his lips moving closer and closer to her mouth until they were locked in a heavy make-out session.

A heated blush crept up her cheeks. Ruthie ducked her head, letting her loose curls tumble down to hide her face. She prayed that if anybody noticed her flushed cheeks, that they would attribute the color to the humid weather. And, indeed, it was quite warm out. Ruthie could feel the sweat trickling down her back, causing her black dress shirt to stick uncomfortably to her skin.

The words of Psalm 23 filled her ears: The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet water, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Typical funeral words. Ruthie felt a sense of rage within her. Could the stupid minister not come up with something more original than the Funeral Psalm, as Ruthie had branded it. Was he so unimaginative that he had to use the same Psalm that everyone else used? Eric Camden deserved better than those words. He deserved his own, original words of departure from this world.

A tear slipped, unbidden down her cheek, cooling her heated skin. She shouldn't be feeling this way. She shouldn't be angry, but reminiscent of the time she had with her dad, and thankful that he was now with his Father in Heaven.

She looked up at the coffin. The dark, rich wood was beautiful, but its purpose was dark. Ruthie felt a darkening in her soul. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to get away, to be free of all the sadness and tears.

Her eyes shifted to Martin once more. She would much rather think of him, of kissing him, than of burying her father. Guilt, once again, clenched within her stomach. How disrespectful could she be?

Annie was crying two chairs away, Lucy and Matt on either side of her, their arms around her. Ruthie studied her family, taking in each one's own private grief. Her mother wasn't ashamed to show the tears that she had for the man she'd been married to for so long. Ruthie envied her, she envied the freedom to show emotion that Annie Camden had. She could never be so free. Her eyes flickered to Matt. He was sitting as stoic as she, his eyes distant. Ruthie wondered what he was thinking about. His lips moved, but no words came out. There was the familiar forming of one word: amen. He had been praying. His wife Sarah sat beside him, one slim hand on his arm, desperate to comfort. Their son sat on her lap, gazing animatedly at the people surrounding them. Lucy sat with tears in her eyes, a tissue in the same hand that held tightly to Kevin's. She was staring at the coffin, her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks tear stained, as if by simply wishing she could make their father rise from his eternal sleep. Savannah sat on Kevin's lap, Lucy's stomach too large to let the little girl sit on her lap. On Ruthie's other side sat Mary. There was a deep look of longing and sorrow in her eyes. Ruthie sensed that she was thinking about her ex-husband, Carlos, and their son (who she had relinquished custody of when she and Carlos got divorced). Sam and DAvid were sitting beside Mary. They seemed to be the only familymembers actually listening to the minister. It was as if they recieved comfort from his words.The only one who was missing from their family, was Simon, who they had been unable to track down.

Ruthie closed her eyes and bowed her head obediently when the minister called for prayer. She listened to the words, but didn't quite take in their meaning. Anger towards Simon had overtaken her as she watched her family. Why had he left their family? Why would he distance himself from the people who had loved him unconditionally since birth? Ruthie thought him selfish and childish. He didn't even have the decency to show up for his own father's funeral. What did that say about him?

"Amen." She whispered dutifully, echoing all of those gathered together. The service was over, and the coffin was being lowered into the rich soil. Ruthie approached the casket, watching its slow decent into the ground. Plucking a flower from one of the arrangements brought by one of the mourners, she held it between her fingers. Closing her eyes tightly, and praying for strength to get through the rest of this day, she let the flower drop. It landed softly on the top of the casket, its bright yellow color a bright contrast against the mahogany wood.

"Good-bye Daddy."

People were in and out of the house all day, dropping off casseroles and offering their condolences. All Ruthie could think of, however, was that these people were glad that it was not one of their own loved ones that had been buried that day.

It was too much for her to take and, after an hour or two of the endless string of people, she had sought solace in her old bedroom.

Now, tucked away in her room, a book open in her lap, and the quilt wrapped tightly around her, Ruthie sat lost in her thoughts. The page of her book hadn't been turned in the last thirty minutes, but her eyes couldn't seem to focus on the words.

The sound of Savannah and John (Matt's son) playing wafted up the stairs. Ruthie envied them, their innocence. They seemed not to know what was happening, or about the tragedy that had overcome the house.

An overwhelming sadness engulfed Ruthie, and it was all she could do to keep from breaking out in tears. The book she'd been trying to read lay forgotten on her lap as she stared at the opposite end of the room, her gaze burning into the wall as she tried to gain composure.

There was a knock on the door, but the sound seemed distant and remote.

"Hey," the soft voice broke through Ruthie's thoughts. She looked up, her eyes meeting a pair of warm, hazel eyes.

"Hi." She tore her gaze from Martin's and looked down at the book she held.

"I thought you could use something to eat." He held out a plate laden with food. The sight and smell of it made Ruthie nauseas.

"I'm not hungry." She muttered, drawing the quilt tighter around her body.

"You haven't eaten anything all day." He sat on the bed across from hers, his eyes boring intently into the side of her head. Ruthie refused to look at him.

"I haven't had much of an appetite."

She heard the springs squeal on the other bed, then felt the mattress shift beneath her as Martin settled down in front of her. His fingers were gentle and soft as he forced her chin up. Her eyes met his, and the tears would no longer be kept back. They rushed from her eyes hot and aching. She felt Martin's arms wrap around her, holding her tightly. It was the second time he had held her in just two days.

Ruthie hated to admit it, but there was something about Martin that put her at ease enough to let the mask slip, even just a little bit. She savored the feel of his arms, liking the way that she felt so safe and secure within his hold.

When her tears had ended, Ruthie gently pushed away from him, afraid to be in his arms any longer than she needed to be. It was fine for Martin to hold her when she needed comforting, but any long than necessary was simply, in Ruthie's mind, asking for trouble.

"Thank you." She whispered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"For what?"

"For…for just being here." She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his straight on. There was something in Martin's gaze that unnerved her, and she wished that there were more distance between them.

He smiled gently and lay a soothing hand on her arm.

"That's what friend's are for."

Friends. What was it about that word that didn't set right with Ruthie?

Y'all rock! I asked you to give me ten reviews and y'all did it. Now I know that you guys want this fic to continue. I was going to keep writing it even if I didn't get the reviews, simply because I'm having sucha great time creating this story, but the reviews really helped me to focus my muse. Lol. Anyways, please review and tell me what you thought of this chapter.