Chapter Eight
Ruthie had been sitting in the crisp October air, with a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders, for three hours before Martin showed up. She'd gone through six cups of decaf tea and was one her seventh when the chair finally scraped the cement sidewalk and Martin sat down across the table from her.
"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up," she said, her voice barely audible over the burst of laughter from a table of teenagers a couple of feet away.
"That's probably the baby daddy," one of them said loud enough for them to hear.
"By the looks of things he didn't even know she was pregnant, another said, "I knew she was running from someone. Funny, I would have banked on it being her parents."
Ruthie reached up quickly to wipe away a tear, but Martin saw it and he was sure the girls did too.
"Ohhh, did we make Preggers cry?" the first girl called over in a sing song voice.
Martin was about where they could put their damn sing song voices, when the feel of Ruthie's hand over his stopped him.
'Don't," she said, the sadness in her eyes evident in her voice. "Standing up to them just fuels the fire. Trust me, I've tried."
"Ruthie,
"Don't, Martin. I've been here for months. I'm used to this, really."
"But the tear."
"They don't usually hit so close to home is all. And we're not here to talk about them. We are here to calmly discuss the next step we take when comes to this child. I am not giving my baby up. I made that decision when I decided to come out here. I can't go back to Glen Oak, not yet. I don't know if my parents, my family, or even you could ever forgive me for keeping this from all of you. And I wouldn't blame any of you if you didn't." Another tear fell, Ruthie didn't even bother to wipe it away, instead taking the hand which still rested on Martin's hand and placed it with the other on her lap.
"The thought of you hating me, kills me inside, it keeps me up most nights. But the thought of you not being here for this child, not caring about it, is ten times worse. I am not making excuses for myself, when I tell you that I honestly thought at the time that coming here, not telling you the truth was best. I know that was the biggest mistake I have ever made. I love you, Martin. I know my actions make you think otherwise, but it's the truth. You have my number, you know where I live; the next move is yours."
And with that she left, knowing that she wouldn't have to wait long to hear what he had decided to do next.