Light of Logan

by Regina Smeltzer

  “Paternity. That would take a blood test?”

  “Yes.”

  Ruth sighed. A blood test was easy, but the adoptive parents would have to agree. “And what if he could prove he was the father?”

  Attorney Dunlap scratched a spot on top of his head. “At the least, he can cause a great deal of trouble.”

  She frowned. That was not the answer she wanted to hear.

  “Now, can I ask you something?”

  Ruth settled back into the chair.

  “Where were you Friday?”

  “I, uh…I got some bad news. I was dressed and everything, but then…I’m sorry.” Her shoulders slumped, and then she stiffened and looked up. “I am sorry, but I would have been worthless to you.”

  “I really need you here at work.”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “You look as if you didn’t get much sleep last night either.”

  “I found my friend’s body last night. Another friend and I found him—the man who used to sit on the courthouse steps, Mr. Charlie. He was the person who died.”

  Attorney Dunlap straightened. “Charlie Swenson?”

  “I don’t know his last name. I always call him Mr. Charlie.”

  Attorney Dunlap’s stare unnerved her. Had she said something wrong? If Mr. Swenson was her Mr. Charlie, did her boss dislike him for some reason? But he didn’t seem judgmental.

  “There can only be one Mr. Charlie. I didn’t know he passed away.” Attorney Dunlap rested his arms on the desk and leaned forward.

  “We just found him last night at his house.” She gripped the sides of the chair as memories of the darkness, the blown-out windows, and the smell returned. “We called the police, and they came and took his body away.” Tears threatened to spill. She turned toward the curtain covered window.

  “You’re sure it was Mr. Swenson?”

  “I didn’t see him myself, but his shirts were hanging outside on the line.”

  “The house on Howard?”

  “I don’t remember the name of the street. It was dark outside, but it was the dead-end right after an old abandoned factory.”

  Attorney Dunlap picked up his pencil and resumed tapping. He pinched the bridge of his nose and stared at her.

  Acid rose in Ruth’s throat.

  “I have something I need to do.” He rose from his chair. “Sounds as though you had a rough night. Go home and get some rest. I expect to see you first thing in the morning.”

  Before she could answer, he grabbed his suit-coat from the back of the chair and walked out of the office.

  Ruth sat in stunned silence. Attorney Dunlap knew Mr. Charlie. He seemed upset, or at least surprised, over Mr. Charlie’s death. Her heart thumped wildly. In spite of the exhaustion, thoughts churned faster than she could process them.

  ~*~

  After a sleepless night, Nate finally made his decision. At nine in the morning when the county courthouse officially opened, he showed up unannounced at Joe’s office. The swinging half door banged against the wall as he stomped past the startled Helen and pushed his way into Joe’s domain.

  Joe rose from behind his desk. “If you want a fight, this is not the place.” He glared at Nate.

  Nate stood just inside the door. He had promised himself he would not lose control. He would not punch Joe. He would not behave in a way unbecoming to a Christian. But one look at his smug cousin with his navy suit and silver tie, and Nate wanted to jump over the desk and take him on. He took a deep breath. “I want this sham of a wedding called off.”

  Joe raised his eyebrows and spit out a laugh. “So you want your girlfriend back?”

  Nate took a couple of steps and stopped. Joe had always been a jerk, but now his behavior defied description. “You aren’t in love with Ruth. You’re using her to get to me.”

  “You don’t think I love her? I had a child with her.”

  Nate balled his hands into fists. “And we both know that doesn’t mean a thing.”

  “It seemed to mean something Friday. Or was it my part that bothered you?”

  Nate wanted to knock the man into tomorrow and knew he could do it. In spite of his behavior lately, he believed fighting never solved anything. He rubbed his shoulder, remembering the scuffle just days ago. “I don’t know what hold you have on Ruth, but she’s not jaded enough for your kind of games. Be a man, and choose an opponent who can fight back.”

  The phone on the desk rang. “I already called the wedding off.” Joe turned away. “Joseph Ackerman speaking.”

  The wedding was off? As easy as that?

  Something wasn’t right; Nate’s gut churned. He strode out of the office and into the glaring stare of the receptionist. Back in his truck, he headed toward the worksite. Pain crept into his hands, and he eased his grip on the steering wheel. A car turned in front of him and he pushed on the horn, holding it longer than necessary. “Drive the car or get off the road,” he yelled through his closed window.

  At the work site, half a dozen cars occupied the shady spots. Nate parked in the sun and grabbed his tool belt from the back. He glanced at the other vehicles, all of them junk. He shook his head. Why the bad attitude? The cars belonged to good workers. He should be grateful, since he would inherit them before long.

  Inside the house, the sound of pounding came from the second floor. The drywall crew. Chet and Andrew, on their knees, jostled long strips of hardwood in the living area. “Looks good, guys.”

  Chet grinned. “About time you got to work.”

  Nate rubbed his jaw. “I had an errand to run.”

  “We’re about out of flooring. I’ll go to the truck and get a few more bundles.” Andrew moaned as he stood. “Glad to get off my knees.”

  Chet remained on the floor. “You look like something the dog dragged in.”

  “Bad night.” Nate sat on the floor beside his friend. “I found Ruth wandering alone on the west end of town last evening.”

  “Not a good place to be, bro.”

  “Ended up, she was looking for Mr. Charlie’s house.”

  “The man who sits at the courthouse?”

  “That’s the one. Seems he had not shown up for a couple days, and she went to look for him. Only thing, she didn’t have a clue where he lived.”

  “So she was going to walk the whole town?” Chet shook his head. “She must have really wanted to find him.”

  “We found him on old Howard Court. He’d been dead awhile if smell is any clue.”

  Chet grimaced. “Bummer. I bet Ruth was upset. How’d you handle that?”

  Dealing with women’s emotions was not Nate’s strength, but he had done the best he could. He went on the wild goose chase, never expecting to find the man. But when they did, he had manned up and handled it. “I went home and showered forever. I tossed out the clothes I wore.”

  “What about Ruth?”

  “I took her home. She was dealing better than I was. She didn’t see his body.”

  “How’s she this morning?”

  Nate stiffened. “How should I know?”

  “Just thought she might have been your urgent appointment.”

  Nate looked out the window, the view blocked by more houses. Not where he would build, but folks seemed to like it, living all bunched up together in a hive. He wasn’t sure why he avoided telling Chet about his visit to Joe, getting the wedding stopped and all. But the words didn’t come, and then Andrew dropped three bundles of flooring at their feet and started tearing off the paper cover.

  “Back to work,” Chet said.

  Nate headed toward the roughed-in stairs to the upper level.

  “You might want to think about why you feel so bummed, and do something about it,” Chet said to Nate’s retreating back. “The world isn’t a perfect place.”

  Andrew looked at Nate. “You think the world is perfect? Want to trade trucks?”

  Nate didn’t bother to reply. As for his mood, if Chet had as much on his mind as he did, Chet would be
bummed, too. He slammed his feet on the risers. People needed to get off his case.

  The drywall crew had the task well in hand, so Nate took out his check-list. Best thing to do was keep busy. But instead of seeing his list of tasks, his mind resurrected the image of Ruth as he’d left her at her door last night. She needed a friend, and he had dumped her. His actions didn’t sit well in the light of day.

  27

  Friday, July 5

  No one worked on Thursday, since it was a holiday. Ruth refused the offer of a picnic with the Rosses and spent the time alone.

  On Friday, she chose a new route to the law office, avoiding the courthouse. The walk took about ten minutes longer. She passed the newspaper office, free medical clinic, and a Hispanic market. The additional time paid off in peace of mind. Keeping track of her movements would be harder for Joe now that she didn’t stop at the courthouse every day.

  Since it was expected, she made her usual call to her mother but cut the conversation short. Her mom probably wondered what was wrong and most likely would worry until next month’s call. But Ruth couldn’t talk about Mr. Charlie or about Joe. Or Nate. The silent gaps grew uncomfortably long.

  After work, she changed into old shorts and a paint-stained t-shirt, chucked her shoes, and wandered to the garden. Loneliness felt more acute today than it had over the holiday, perhaps due to the empty weekend that stretched ahead. But now, tomatoes needed to be picked and a couple of green peppers were ready. On impulse, she gathered the produce and arranged the vegetables, along with a bundle of cilantro, into a wicker basket. She dug through the bottom drawer in the bedroom, in what probably had been a dish cupboard once upon a time, and found a yellow ribbon and tied it to the base of the handle. Looping the handle over her arm, she slipped on her sandals and locked the door.

  She enjoyed the walk to the Ross home, with the exception of the crows that constantly darted across the sidewalk as if intentionally irritating her. Ruth rang the bell on the front porch.

  Betsy’s eyes widened. “Hi,” she said, clutching the door. “What are you doing here?”

  Confused over the unusual welcome, Ruth held out the basket. “I thought you could use some fresh produce for supper.”

  Betsy continued to stare. “I’m sorry.” She pulled open the door. “Come in. I’m just surprised to see you. Didn’t you get married two days ago? I figured you’d be on your honeymoon.”

  Ruth grimaced. “Joe’s announcement surprised you and me both.” She followed Betsy to the kitchen, where she sat at the table.

  Betsy stirred a simmering pot of spaghetti sauce. “You didn’t know you were getting married on Wednesday?”

  “I had no idea, and we did not get married.”

  Betsy dangled the spoon over the pot. “I bet that was a scene.”

  “Did you know Mr. Charlie died?”

  “Chet told me. I’m sorry. I know the two of you were friends. You and Nate found his body?” She shook her head. “That must have been awful.” Betsy brought two glasses of tea to the table.

  They sat in silence.

  “I always feel so comfortable here,” Ruth said. “Your house feels welcoming.”

  “That’s funny. Nate says the same thing. Both of you are lonely, and my house probably represents home. Come as often as you like.”

  “Betsy, I never really thanked you for staying with me—what, twice now? I’m starting to become needy, and I don’t want that.”

  “Forget it. Anything for a dear friend.”

  Footsteps patted across the floor. Chip, dressed in cartoon underwear and a green t-shirt, wandered through the kitchen door and pulled himself up on Betsy’s lap. He settled against her, his sleep-filled eyes half-closed.

  Betsy kissed the top of his head and brushed soft brown hair off his face. “Have a good rest, buddy?”

  Chip snuggled closer.

  “Miss Ruth is here. Want to say hi?”

  “Is Daddy home?”

  “Not yet. Uncle Nate is coming for supper, remember?”

  Chip shared a lopsided smile.

  Ruth gulped in surprise. She needed to leave before Nate showed up. She hadn’t seen him since Tuesday night. He most likely assumed she was married, not that it mattered to him. “Thanks for the tea, and enjoy the vegetables.” She hugged Betsy and gave Chip a quick kiss on his cheek. “Have fun tonight with Uncle Nate.”

  Chip scooted in his mother’s lap. “Won’t you be here, too?”

  “Not this time.”

  “Stay,” Betsy said. “I have plenty.”

  Memories of the last time they ate together mingled with the tempting scent of pasta sauce. She and Nate had been a couple then, sort of. Now Nate made it clear he had no romantic interest in her. Joe had said it—she was used goods. Nate had driven her all over town on Tuesday night, but every time she looked into his face, she saw pain. As much as she would love to stay, her presence would make him uncomfortable. Her absence would be payment for his kindness on Tuesday. “I have things to do tonight, but thanks anyway.”

  Remembering her promise, the reason she remained unmarried, Ruth forced a smile. “Betsy, where is church on Sunday? I can manage to get there if you tell me where to go.” She felt like a traitor to the people who had shown her nothing but kindness. As she struggled with her guilt, she told herself there was no real harm being done. Maybe, just maybe, Joe really did have to report to the police. Either way, the promise bought her time to discover Joe’s interest in Logan and his insistence on finding the light of Logan. Mr. Charlie’s revelation the last time they met burned in her mind. She was the light.

  Betsy hefted Chip onto her hip. “I’ll pick you up for church. Nine OK?”

  “Sure, but where are we headed?”

  “The Carsons are hosting this week.”

  “Great. And where do they live?”

  “Out on Patterson Street, too far for you to walk.”

  Ruth grinned. “All right, Mama. I’ll see you at nine.”

  “You can’t avoid Nate forever, you know.”

  Ruth gave her bravest smile. “Yes I can.”

  ~*~

  His knock came about eight that night. It wasn’t quite dark, and the neighborhood hadn’t begun its weekend revelry. Ruth opened the door and handed out a slip of paper. “You’ll understand if I don’t invite you in.”

  He took the paper and read it. “Thanks,” he said as he slipped his hand inside the door. “I just want to talk.”

  “Joe, you promised.” Her gut tightened.

  Joe sighed and removed his hand. “You need to get yourself a security chain. This isn’t the best neighborhood.” He glanced toward the next house. “I heard some of the church people got death threats last week.”

  Was he probing? “The police stopped here, but nothing happened.”

  “I’m serious about the security chain. I can install it for you. I’ll put one on the back door, too.”

  Did she trust him to enter her house? The bigger question, would she be able to get him out? She shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable with the conversation. “I’m handy with tools. If you think it’s that important, I can have it done before lunch.”

  “Ruth, I do care about you. I know our times together haven’t gone well. Things are happening that you don’t know about—pressures that are driving me mad.”

  For an instant, she stared into the face of the boy she had given her heart to, and much more.

  The neighbor chose that moment to stomp out his side door and share a stream of words her mother would have used a whole bar of soap to wash out of his mouth.

  “I can’t stand the thought of you living nextdoor to someone like that. Ruth, come live with me.”

  “And would I be any safer?” She didn’t realize she was fingering the chain around her neck until Joe stared at it.

  His eyes turned icy as he held up the slip of paper. “Well, thanks for the information.”

  “Pass it on to the police.”

  “It will
get where it needs to go.”

  Ruth’s hand trembled as she shut the door. Next week, she would find a way to give Joe the information over the phone, if she gave it to him at all.

  28

  Monday, July 8

  Ruth felt more lighthearted than she had in a long time. Church had gone well yesterday, with not a hint of a problem. No vandalism. No hecklers. And with such a large house, avoiding Nate had been easy. She was getting to know some of the regulars and had a lot in common with a few of them. She actually felt a part of the group. Some parts of the sermon made more sense to her than others. She would have enjoyed discussing it with Nate. As it was, she would work through this God is Father thing on her own.

  Her boss was waiting for her when she arrived at work. “Ruth, I need to see you.” His stern expression was out of character.

  Ruth’s heart lurched. He motioned for her to sit, and he picked a half-sized sheet of blue paper off his desk. “This is a copy of Mr. Swenson’s death certificate.”

  Mr. Swenson. It felt strange to think of Mr. Charlie as anyone other than Mr. Charlie. He probably hadn’t known her last name, either. Their relationship wasn’t based on personal facts but on enjoying the moment, and those moments had become precious to both of them.

  Attorney Dunlap placed the document back on his desk. “The coroner has certified that Mr. Swenson did not die of natural causes.”

  She swallowed hard. “So someone killed Mr. Charlie?” Anger flooded her body. “The police—do they have leads?”

  “Just because it isn’t natural causes doesn’t make it homicide.”

  Ruth sat, numb.

  He picked up a pencil and tapped. “You may not like this. I have permission to tell you since you are as close to next of kin as we can get.”

  She was all Mr. Charlie had. He told her once that she was the daughter he’d never had. She steadied herself, owing it to her friend to listen to how he died.

  “According to the coroner, Mr. Charlie bled to death as a result of multiple bites.”

  “Bites?” Had there been a bear after all? Attorney Dunlap was right; she didn’t like it.

  “According to the police report, the windows at the house were broken,” he continued.