by Kim Watters
“Which cemetery?” Bile hit the back of his throat. Sometimes he wished he didn’t have such a sense of chivalry—or in this case, a misguided sense of duty.
Ruth studied him so intently that a blush found a home on his cheeks. “If you insist. Phoenix Memorial. Thank you. I can still pay my respects and say goodbye.”
“You’re welcome.” Noah straightened and narrowly missed hitting his shoulder blades on the passenger door of the truck.
A commuter jet touched down, the noise creating static in his mind. Noah used the time to walk around his truck and jump in the driver’s seat. He started his truck and flipped the air-conditioning on full blast to dispel the heat. Houston jumped from the backseat and planted himself on Ruth’s lap and stared out the front window as if daring Noah to dislodge him.
“Do you know where the cemetery is?”
Noah nodded and pulled out onto the side street that wound through the airpark businesses before turning north on Scottsdale Road. He knew only too well where he was going. He visited there twice a week if not more, depending on his schedule.
Finally at their destination after a slight delay on the 101, Noah stopped his truck several yards from the large group of mourners assembled under a canopy, spilling out into the shade of an old eucalyptus tree. The green fabric offered only moderate protection for the people from the sun filtering in through the tree branches above. Sweat formed under his arms when the crowd shifted, and he caught sight of the casket and the clergyman standing at the head of it.
The elderly, white-haired man in black glanced over at the truck, his gaze catching Noah’s and his wise, aged eyes and open arms inviting Noah to join them. Join Him. Come back to the flock. Noah’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. No. He wouldn’t go back. Couldn’t. God had forsaken him. He’d left him to wander around without the people he loved, who ironically Noah had buried a few hundred yards down the road.
“Thanks for bringing me. I’m sure I can catch a ride from here.” As if sensing Noah’s distress, Ruth reached over and placed her hand on his arm. Warm and full of life and love. All of the things Noah was not these days.
“I’ll be waiting in my truck over there.” Noah managed to control his anger and bitterness as he pointed to a pull off not too far away. The woman beside him was not responsible for what had happened. Not really. That was between him and God. And the drunk. And the doctors. And the woman with the red lipstick. Yet Ruth was one of them and not one of them. Would he ever be able to separate the caring, compassionate woman from her profession?
“But—”
“You’d better get out. It looks like they’re waiting for you.”
Once the group welcomed Ruth into their midst and she disappeared from view, Noah put the truck in Drive and slipped away. He’d meant to head to the spot where he’d told Ruth to meet him, but his heart had other ideas and he found himself parking even farther down and walking toward Michelle’s and Jeremy’s graves.
Houston trotted ahead of him, yet he didn’t bark, as if sensing the solemn occasion. The dog sniffed between the two markers and then rolled on the freshly mown grass covering Jeremy’s grave. Houston remained the only bright spot in Noah’s day. Denial singed the surface of his heart. Who was he kidding? Ruth brought a bit of light into his dark world, too.
In the background, he heard the constant hum of traffic from the freeway and the din of lawn mowers in another section of the cemetery. Birds chirped from the tree branches overhead, and an occasional rabbit munched on the green grass. A few other families tended similar sites but off in the distance. Good. Noah liked to keep his visits private.
“Hi, Michelle.” Noah felt his voice break, as he knelt between his wife and son’s markers and brushed away a few stray grass clippings the landscapers had missed from Michelle’s. “My sister called the other day. Her daughter got her first job as a cashier at the local community college. You remember Stephanie, don’t you?”
No answer, but Noah was used to the one-sided conversations. “Of course you do. Well, Nancy’s really freaked out about Steph working with college boys, but our niece is sixteen. The work will be good for her. And Nadine’s husband, Tom, is going through some sort of mid-life crisis and just bought himself a red Corvette.”
Noah leaned over and adjusted the fake flowers in the permanent receptacle so they stayed upright. Houston sniffed at them until a pigeon distracted him and he chased it into the tree branch overhead. “Did you notice I replaced the flowers last month? They’re your favorite.”
He touched one of the yellow petals of the tulip, the silk texture a little rough between his fingers. They didn’t last very long in the valley heat. He sat back on his heels and rubbed his palms against his jeans and wondered what type of flower Ruth preferred.
He clamped his teeth together. He didn’t want to know. Michelle had been the love of his life. Only she mattered. But he had a hard time remembering what his wife looked like. The picture of the woman in his mind stood at another funeral only a few hundred yards away. He savagely plucked a few more stalks of uncut grass the mowers had missed and threw them to the side.
Despite the heat, the action felt good. It burned at the restless energy built up inside him. He would not think of Ruth. Or her laughter or the dimples that graced her cheeks when she gave him one of her smiles. He would not allow himself the opportunity to care for her. Because that could only lead to disaster. And heartache. And potentially another tragedy.
Twisting to his right, he attended to Jeremy’s marker, shoving all thoughts of Ruth from his mind. She didn’t belong there. Not now, not ever. He flicked off an errant clump of dirt from the J in Jeremy’s name. “Hey, sport. Your favorite ball team is playing really well this year. There’s some talk they may actually make the play-offs.” Moisture gathered in Noah’s eyes. “They might even make it to the World Series again.”
What happened to his family wasn’t fair. He should be out playing ball with his son, not visiting his grave. He should be making plans to attend a baseball game instead of wiping the tears from his cheeks. He should…should have. Would have. Could have. A sigh rattled his bones. None of this was going to change anything.
Noah needed to let go. Move on.
If he could.
“Goodbye, Ruth. Thanks for coming.” Margaret Ann’s daughter, Fiona, wiped her tear-laden eyes as they stood under the canopy tent erected by the cemetery staff to shade them. “I really appreciate it. I know my mom does, too.”
With less than a handful of mourners remaining, Ruth stopped, enveloped the slight woman in her arms and hugged her gently. Disappointment still lingered, but Ruth knew Margaret Ann’s memory would live in her heart forever. “I’m sorry I was late and missed the beautiful service. Take comfort in knowing she’s at peace now.”
“And she’s up in heaven with all those children she adored.”
Ruth squeezed Fiona’s hand. “Please let me know if I can do anything for you. Anything at all.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Fiona’s husband of twenty-five years wrapped a comforting arm around his wife. “Are you sure you won’t join us back at the house for refreshments? You’re more than welcome to bring your friend along.”
“Friend? He’s more of an acquaintance, though sometimes…” Ruth’s gaze swept across the cemetery grounds dotted with shade trees and a few benches until she spied Noah off in the distance with Houston at his side. Even from this distance she could sense his pain with his slumped shoulders and bowed head. Her heart ached for him. She’d started to care for the pilot and wanted to help him through whatever nightmares tormented him. “Really. I’d love to, but I can’t. Unfortunately, I’ve got some unexpected business to take care of. Thanks though.”
Ruth walked away from the grave and stayed on the grass until she’d passed the last parked car along one of the single lanes of pavement that wound through the cemetery. Finally, she cut across the road. Her heels clicked against the asphalt, creating
a static rhythm until she reached the other side. She passed a few cemetery maintenance workers taking care of what looked like an irrigation issue. What had Noah so upset?
Only one way to find out. Ruth walked quietly to where Noah now knelt, his fingers tracing the inscription on a grave marker. As she read it, heaviness descended on Ruth, pushing away any chance of feigning ignorance. She swallowed her sob. At least she had her answer to his ever-present sadness.
Ruth’s vision clouded. Michelle Barton. Loving wife and mother. She’d died a little over three years ago just shy of her thirtieth birthday. Her gaze skittered to the next marker. Seven-year-old Jeremy Barton died two days after his mother.
She wiped the tears away with her finger.
A hot, dusty breeze kicked up and played with Houston’s curly hair as he sat next to his owner. Ruth reached out to touch Noah’s shoulder. Would Noah welcome her comforting gesture? His muscles bunched beneath her palm and yet his hand reached up and covered hers for several heartbeats as if afraid to let go.
“Please. Don’t. I can’t.” Noah finally pulled away and shoved a stiff hand through his hair. The blood leached from his face and a nerve ticked along his jaw.
Ruth gasped and dug her short, manicured fingernails into her palm. She’d overstepped her bounds. “I’m sorry for your loss, Noah.”
Noah’s stony silence unnerved her. Seconds ticked by. Then a minute. Only their ragged breathing and the sound of a passing car leaving the cemetery filled the air between them.
His sadness and hurt clung to her. Ruth stumbled away from the bleakness etched in Noah’s features when he twisted around to look at her. He created a symphony of emotions inside her heart with disastrous results.
He stilled loved his wife.
“Ruth. Wait.” Struggling to his feet, Noah whistled for Houston. The terrier dashed after Ruth and beat her to the white truck parked in the shade cast by a row of tall, thin trees. His short, yappy barks seemed to be trying to convey all of Noah’s thoughts, but the dog apparently did a much better job. Ruth scooped him up in her arms and cradled him like a baby.
When the dog licked her face, Ruth’s cautious laughter filled his ears and her hesitant smile chipped at the darkness embedded in his brain. Noah’s footsteps slowed with each step. The hot afternoon sun beat down on his head and shoulders, making him even more uncomfortable as he clicked his remote and unlocked the doors.
Finally at her side, he stopped Ruth from touching the passenger side handle. “Look. Ruth, I—I…please look at me.”
Ruth complied and tilted her head back to gaze up at him. Nothing but her soft, feminine features filled his vision. A tiny pulse beat wildly in her neck, and her wide generous lips lifted at the corners. Her unique scent blended with the freshly mown grass, wreaking havoc with his equilibrium. Noah found himself slanting toward her. It wouldn’t take much to forget why he shouldn’t get involved.
Noah swallowed and spoke before he lost all reasoning. “For some crazy reason I’m drawn to you, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I’m not ready.”
“I’m not looking either.” Ruth’s whisper held a trace of regret. “Let’s see if we can be friends then.”
“I’d like that.” Noah leaned around her, opened the door and helped her inside. His lips came within centimeters of grazing the top of her head. Who was he kidding?
Chapter Seven
The tension that started at the cemetery continued to rest on Noah’s shoulders five minutes later as he merged back onto the freeway. Friends? Had they just agreed to be friends?
Friends should be able to talk about anything. Anything at all. So why did he struggle to ask the question that had plagued him for three long years. A question he wasn’t sure he wanted answered yet still he had to know.
His attention flipped between his rearview mirror and the side one. Flashing lights of an emergency vehicle caught his eye. His stomach clenched as he flipped on his blinker, slowed down and moved over to the side. An oversize SUV with the AeroFlight name and logo careened by, adding to the tension inside the cab.
“Looks like someone from your office is working today.” Noah’s sarcasm slipped out before he could clamp his lips shut. His grip tightened on the steering wheel. Ruth deserved time off. She’d just worked over a twenty-four-hour shift. She’d just said goodbye to a friend. She’d just made a liar out of him because he was more interested in her in a not-so-friendly way. “Sorry. That was uncalled for. Anyone you know?”
“They went by so fast I couldn’t tell, but it was probably Natalie Stanton. I think she was the on-call person today.” Ruth leaned forward and adjusted the air-conditioning vent away from her.
Noah turned the air down. “The tall brunette?”
“Yes.”
He heard Ruth’s disappointment in that one syllable word. His mood grew even darker. On the last fly-out, Natalie had taken a sudden disliking to him because he didn’t respond to her flirting. And it wasn’t just because of what she did for a living. He’d tried to let her down gently, but he sensed he hadn’t heard the last of her. “Don’t worry. She’s not my type. She asked me out, and I turned her down.”
Seeing the Scottsdale exit ahead, Noah put on his blinker, checked his rearview mirror and slid back into the right lane. He didn’t have much time. Despite the cool air inside the truck, a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. It was now or never. “What does death feel like?”
“Death?” Ruth’s hand stilled on Houston’s back, and her fingers entwined in his fur. Death? Her heart took up residence in her stomach. This was not a conversation she’d ever expected to have with Noah. She adjusted her seat belt as if to anchor her more firmly into her seat.
“I don’t know, Noah. I’ve never died before.”
“But you’ve had experience with it.” As they waited for the light to turn green at the bottom of the ramp, Noah’s lips thinned as he looked at her, his skin taut over the hard planes of his cheeks.
She couldn’t see the bleakness in his eyes because of the dark sunglasses, but she knew it resided in the deep, blue orbs. Ruth digested his words carefully. This had to have something to do with Noah’s wife and son. The need to put his mind at ease consumed her.
“I know about physical death, Noah.” She touched his forearm, and like clockwork, the muscles bunched beneath her hand. “All biological functions cease. I don’t know how it feels though, but I suspect each one of us will approach death differently. For some it will be quick. For others, it could drag on for months or years.”
She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut. Rachel’s smiling face stared back at her. A healthy-looking Rachel, not the thin, sick child she’d been before death finally released her spirit into God’s hands. Her twin had suffered so much pain in the end; her passing had been a relief. Bonnie’s death, too.
“Death can also be a blessing. It’s part of the process of life. Every one of us will die.” Ruth opened her eyes and stared at Noah, but his attention was back on the road. Traffic on Scottsdale Road was always a nightmare at this time of day, and she stared out at a sea of brake lights. “Sometimes it happens earlier than planned so it’s important how you choose to live the life given to you.”
Noah didn’t comment on her dialogue, yet his remote expression had returned and his skin paled in the mid-afternoon sunlight. “That’s not what I really want to know. Maybe I should have been more specific. What happens to a donor when they die? What does death feel like for them?”
Ruth chose her words with caution as alarm bells rang inside her brain. His question made her suddenly suspect that either his wife or son or both had been organ donors. Otherwise, why else would Noah ask?
“When a donor dies, he or she experiences what’s called brain death. It’s the irreversible end of a person’s brain activity.”
“Is there much pain?” Noah’s voice cracked.
Ruth stared at the anguish and pain etched into his features as he struggled with the conver
sation. She longed to free him from his demons.
“Noah, donation coordinators are called in after the donor is declared brain-dead by a physician. By the time we arrive, there is no pain, no reflexes, nothing. What is this all about?”
“Nothing,” Noah whispered harshly.
Ruth knew she had to give him more time. She bowed her head, clasped her hands and said a silent prayer.
“How can you believe in God when you act at playing God with what you do?” Noah pulled into the rental car lot and parked in a shaded spot not too far from the entrance.
“Playing God? Is that what you think I’m doing?” Ruth’s blood ran cold as she unbuckled her seat belt. He still couldn’t accept her job despite what she’d told him. “I don’t believe I’m playing God at all. I’m an agent of life. We live in a broken world, Noah, in case you hadn’t noticed. I’m simply giving someone a second chance when the person who has died is already gone.”
“Then how do you explain how donors are chosen?” His tone raised gooseflesh across her bare arms.
“How donors are chosen? You honestly think—” Turning to face him, she clenched her fists. A tear slipped down her cheek. Even after the few recoveries Noah had flown and the staff he’d met, he still didn’t get it. She suspected he didn’t want to get it. “You really don’t understand the process at all.”
She sensed a war raging inside him when Noah glanced over at her. “No, I don’t. All I see is a group of medical staff hovering around like vultures watching and waiting to divvy up parts to the highest bidder.”
Vulture. Ruth stared at the man. Sorrow touched her. She couldn’t reconcile this hard, bitter man with the one who’d so tenderly cradled her in comfort earlier.
“No one is chosen for death before they actually die, Noah. It’s unethical. It’s not like, oh, here’s a healthy twenty-two-year-old. Gee, he’d be a great match for a couple of kidneys and a heart that guy needs in room 4. Let’s not try our hardest to save his life so we can harvest his organs. It doesn’t work that way.”
