Chapter Nine
"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters."
Ryan felt Gillian tighten her grip on his hand, and he turned his gaze away from the service to admire her for a moment. She wore her hair pinned up, piled onto the top of her head, but a few strands had come unloose, and blew wildly in the wind. Her profile-- the small, button nose that turned up just a bit at the end, now pink from the cold. His strength, and she never really knew how much. In times of darkness, they found a light in each other.
Braden's funeral was small and brief. Most of the mourners were there to support Ryan, not his brother, as Braden had left behind more enemies than friends in Pine Valley. Dimitri had generously offered to take care of the arrangements, but Ryan had refused. He had a lifetime of guilt that he would never be able to make up for, the least he could do was pick out a casket and hire a nice priest.
"He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. 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."
"Does it hurt real bad?" Ryan stared in awe at the jagged stitches across Braden's back.
"No, it doesn't hurt at all."
"Really? You're lying, come on, it has to. Not even just a little?"
"Nope."
"Wow." Ryan was impressed.
"See that's what I keep trying to tell you. You don't have to feel it unless you want to. It's all about how tough you are." Braden was only eleven at the time, but he talked like he knew everything, and Ryan believed it.
"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."
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