"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want."
Black umbrellas formed an oval around newly disturbed earth. A light mist floated down from the sky above and touched the gray stone. The wind swirled around the heavy coats and pants. Cold placed its fingers onto the cheeks and noses of the silent audience.
"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters."
Thin lips and dry eyes. Green grass rose from the ground after so much rain. It surrounded the grave but stopped at the line of the brown dirt. The soil was damp and its smell drifted through the air. The very distinct smell.
"He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake."
Victor loved that smell. It tasted like nature. Like a humid rain. It soothed his mind. But looking at his father's grave, he realized that he would from then on hate the scent. It only smelled like death now.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."
He forgot his umbrella. Victor's hair was covered with droplets of water. It looked as if someone had sprinkled his head with little white dots. His hands were cold and his knuckles were red. They were clasped tightly in front of him.
"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over."
Victor turned his head slightly to the right. His eyes enveloped the grave next to his father's. William Van Dort was not the first of the family to pass away. Victor's eyes were still dry. It almost hurt. He numbly looked back towards the pastor.
"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. Amen."
Eleanor Van Dort and Victor walked to her home together. It was a silent walk and Victor was grateful for it. They reached the front doors and stood there a moment.
"Would you like to come inside and have some tea, Victor?" asked Nell. Her heart-shaped lips pressed tightly together. They were blue from the cold.
"Of course," said Victor, although he did not want to. He opened the door for his mother and they stepped inside.
It was quiet except for Nell's determined footsteps to the kitchen. Victor walked slowly to the sitting room and waited.
"Here you are, Victor," said Nell a few minutes later with tea in hand. It sat on a platter and every dish and cup were neatly arranged. She set it down on a small table and Victor leaned down and picked up a saucer and teacup.
They stood there silently and sipped their tea. Steam swirled up from the brown liquid and it tickled Victor's nose. Eleanor suddenly laughed and Victor looked up surprised.
"Well, finally. I always hated that stupid man's voice," Eleanor said and sipped her tea. Tears were sliding down her face.
Victor stared at her with dry eyes.
Victoria sat in the living room and blinked when she heard the front door open and close. Victor walked into her line of sight and he brushed a hand through his disheveled hair.
"How are you, Victor?" asked Victoria.
"Well, the weather was rather gloomy. But appropriate, I suppose," said Victor.
Victoria looked down and began to sew what looked to be a blanket. The needle pierced the cloth and thread followed. "It has been rainy."
"Yes, everyone brought umbrellas. Of course, I forgot mine. Still, it was a nice service. And the family plot is in a nice place in the new cemetery," Victor rambled. His eyes drifted over to the door across from the hallway.
Victoria looked up when Victor stopped talking. She saw him looking at the door. "Well," said Victoria, standing up from her seat, "I am tired. I think I may go take a nap."
Victor stood silently as she left the living room and walked down the hallway to her bedroom. The door closed softly. Victor sat down in a chair and looked out of the window. It cast a pale light into the room.