He turned at the door. “Ah, Ruth…can we talk sometime?”
Her heart did cartwheels.
~*~
As Ruth swept the kitchen floor, Jennifer put Nate’s dishes in the dishwasher. She turned to Ruth. “I promised to take you to the Ross home this morning.”
Ruth felt pain in her stomach. Her best friend believed she had betrayed her. That was the last place she wanted to go; Betsy’s anger was too fresh in her mind.
“Betsy’s been asking for you.”
“So she can make me feel bad all over again?” Ruth rubbed her arms. “You saw her reaction to me yesterday.”
“Seeing her will never get easier, so come on.”
The drive took less than ten minutes. As they parked, Ruth’s gut began to twist. “I don’t know. Are you sure she wants to see me?” She could peek inside, say hi, and express gratitude that Chip was safe. Then she could retreat. It was only a short walk to her house. After all, she had to deal with the mess there sometime.
Ruth turned her head sharply one direction and then another, scanning each yard as they passed. “There are no crows!”
“I haven’t seen a crow since last night.”
Ruth sat quietly for a minute. “Do you think all the crows were at Mr. Charlie’s?”
When Jennifer shrugged her shoulders, Ruth heaved a sigh. One more issue she would need to deal with. But for now, Betsy had to have her say. “Let’s just get this over with.” Arriving at her former friend’s home, Ruth opened the car door and stepped out.
Betsy raced down the walkway. Her arms surrounded Ruth, and she pulled her close.
Ruth gripped hold of Betsy.
Tears streamed down both their faces.
“I am so sorry,” Betsy mumbled into Ruth’s neck. “How could I have said those things to you? Can you forgive me?”
“You’re my best friend.”
Betsy’s gaze wandered to the door where Chip stood. Betsy took her hand. “Come and see our son.”
Ruth looked at the small boy, shirtless and feet bare. He’d never looked more wonderful. She turned to Betsy, wiping tears from her eyes. “He’s your son. Someday you may decide to share the story of his birth, but until then…I’m happy just to know him.”
~*~
After an hour of visiting, Ruth and Jennifer left the Ross home.
“I appreciate you driving me, but I’ve walked between Betsy’s house and mine a dozen times,” Ruth said as Jennifer turned her car onto the road.
Jennifer stole a sideways glance. “You know you’re welcome to stay with us as long as you want.”
“I can pay for a hotel until I decide what I’ll do.”
“No way will I have you staying in a hotel when there’s a perfectly good bed with your name on it.” They had already had this conversation.
Jennifer slowed as she approached Ruth’s house.
Monday morning, and normally the neighborhood was deserted. Today, though, vehicles lined both sides of the street in front of her house.
She eased herself out of the car. A large pickup truck sat in the front yard. A couple of men Ruth recognized from the church hauled garbage bags out her front door and heaved them into the truck. A third man followed, the man who had tossed tomatoes at her that first Sunday.
“Hey there!” Paul Kritchner called to her. “Thought we’d fix your window.”
Cyrus Phillips stood beside him holding a hammer.
Pastor Clark lugged a bag out the door.
Too surprised to think of an appropriate response, her “thank you for organizing all of this,” sounded formal as she gazed in amazement.
“It wasn’t us,” Jennifer said. “We got a call last night to come and help today, along with all these other folks.”
Ruth tried to think. Who else would care enough?
Her neighbor sauntered out of her front door, the man she had barely spoken to in almost two years. With his wild hair and crazy hours, she had figured it best to avoid him. “Hey there.” He grinned at her. “I called Daryl, your landlord. He owns my house, too. Hope you don’t mind.”
Ruth stared. Her neighbor was helping? No way. She didn’t even know his name.
He rubbed his chin. “Man, Daryl was flyin’ hot over the busted windows. Said you were gonna have to replace them. So I called your friends.”
“You called my friends? How did you know—”
“I saw the dudes in the backyard with you on Sunday. I know most of them from working at the auto body shop. Others just showed up.”
“I can’t believe you did this for me.”
“Hey, we’re neighbors.”
“Your house needed some new windows, and some de-fowling.” Paul Kritchner laughed at his joke. “Cyrus and I are trying to piece together your furniture as much as we can, but most of it got ruined. The birds are all bagged up and gone, though.”
“But the windows?” Boxes of framed glass stood propped against the house.
“Donated by Stewart Gleason himself.” Paul grinned.
39
Friday, August 2
Ruth waved good-bye to the last two workers, Paul and Velma Kritchner. At the beginning of the summer, she would never have thought the past week possible. Men and women, many she hardly knew, had been flowing through her house in a constant stream, repairing the damage created by Joe’s soldiers and the crows. More than that, the workers had brought food, encouraged her, and many times apologized. Now new glass windows sparkled in the late afternoon sun, wood floors gleamed with a coat of wax, walls were re-painted, and all hints of birds and splintered wood were gone.
The few possessions that survived, her bed where Chip had slept, the blanket made from her maternity clothing, and one mug that had been protected by being in the sink, were now at the Clarks’ house. Her clothes, cocooned within the heavy drawers of the built-in chest in the bedroom wall, had not been destroyed. The item she would have mourned for the most, Mr. Charlie’s shirts, remained in the plastic bag where she had placed them.
Patsy Dillon had showed up on Tuesday with her husband, George. They took the day off work to help. It was Patsy who had sparked the idea of creating a furniture business. Patsy had approached her during their lunch break—club sandwiches, thanks to Chet and Betsy. Patsy sat beside Ruth under the front shade tree and pulled a hard scrap from the pocket of her shorts. “I found this in the corner and saved it.” She fingered a small piece of wood with hints of yellow paint on one side.
“It’s part of the coffee table.” Ruth worked to push away the ache that came each time loss confronted her. Patsy had admired the table.
“I thought it might be.” Patsy continued to stare at the broken bit of wood. “I wondered…when you feel able…can you make me a coffee table just like it?”
Ruth glanced up. “Seriously?” Did the woman realize she had made it from scraps no one wanted? Ruth had agreed. The possibility of her hobby becoming a job took root.
Later that same day, when the police contacted Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman about Joe’s disappearance, Pastor Clark arranged for her to talk to her mom.
During the call, Ruth shared the truth about her move to Wilmington, about the baby, and about the past few months of agony. She told her mom about Mr. Charlie and about Nate. She shared with her about God. Hanging up had been hard to do.
With a deep sigh, she pulled the front door closed behind her and checked the lock one last time. This had been her first home and she was leaving it. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but she knew she could face it. Having Mr. Charlie’s money to fall back on helped a lot, but she felt different inside, stronger, more capable. Whatever she did—go back to Attorney Dunlap’s office, start her own furniture business, or try something new—she would give it her all. And succeed or fail, it didn’t matter as much as having the courage to try.
The roar of diesel filled her ears, and Nate pulled his truck to the curb and parked.
Ruth shivered, knowing what would come next.
/> He wrapped her in muscular arms and pulled her close. “How is my best girl?”
She snuggled into the hardness of his chest.
Every day this week, he had arrived to drive her to the Clarks’, where they had dinner and talked. The past two nights, the Clarks had plans elsewhere. In fact, they had been gone overnight. First, she had cooked, and last night Nate had served her. This would be their last evening together for a while. Ruth held onto the man she loved a little longer.
“You ready for this?” Nate asked.
“As ready as I can be.”
“I’ll sleep better knowing you’re in my house.”
“And you’ll be in the middle of the woods in a tent. How am I supposed to sleep?”
“I’ll only be gone a couple of weeks.”
“You can find God in two weeks?”
“You found Him in two minutes.”
Ruth smiled. “I did, didn’t I?”
Nate’s phone chirped. As he read and responded to his text, she thought back to when black wings covered the sky. As she’d faced death, God came close and protected her.
Nate disconnected the call and smiled. Oh, that smile. Would she ever grow immune to its power? “Let’s go,” he said, still grinning.
They settled into the truck and Ruth took one last glance at her home.
The neighbor peered out his door.
She held up a hand in farewell. “Never judge a book by the cover,” her dad used to say. She should have remembered that sooner.
At the end of her street, Nate turned the truck left toward his house. “I want you to think of my house as yours. Use anything you want.”
“And while you’re off sojourning in the woods finding God, I need to find a place to live, decide on my job, and plan my future.”
“Maybe I should stay for a while. I can—”
“No! I miss you already, but you have to go. You said it yourself. All your adult life you’ve been so busy working at the church that you never got to know God as Father. Thanks to you, I know Him. Now you need to find the Father; God is more than master.”
“Look, isn’t that Pastor Clark’s car?” Ruth said as the truck pulled into Nate’s gravel drive.
The front door of Nate’s house opened and a figure stepped out.
A sob rose from Ruth’s throat. “Mom!” Ruth jumped off the running board and ran across the stubbly grass. Two bodies collided in the yard forming a tower of arms around bodies. Through her sobs, Ruth looked at her mom. Her auburn hair was more gray and new wrinkles creased the thin face. But it was her gaze that held Ruth’s attention—eyes that shined with love. “How did you get here?” Ruth asked.
Mrs. Cleveland glanced in the direction of the house where Pastor and Jennifer Clark stood on the porch. “They came to Atlanta and picked me up.”
“We thought you might need company while you’re here,” Nate said.
“You knew!” Now the silly grins made sense.
“The phone call was to let me know your mom arrived, and I could bring you to my house.”
Without letting go of her mom’s hand, she hugged Nate. “I love you so much!”
A car pulled into the drive and car doors opened. “Uncle Nate! Aunt Ruth!” Chip wiggled from his mother’s grasp and ran to Nate, who swung him into the air.
Mrs. Cleveland glanced at Ruth and raised her eyebrows.
Ruth smiled. “Mom, let me introduce you to Chip Ross, and his parents, Betsy and Chet.”
“I have a fire going around back for hotdogs, if anyone is interested,” Greg called from the front porch.
“And Mom, this is Nate Bishop.” Ruth stared up at the man beside her.
Nate’s cheeks colored as Mrs. Cleveland stared into his face the way mothers do.
Ruth chuckled. Her mom had already figured out what Nate Bishop meant to her.
Jennifer approached and wrapped an arm around Ruth’s mom. “Will you help me carry out the picnic food?”
The women retreated to the house, and Ruth knew a friendship would blossom between the two.
Nate pulled her into a hug. She felt his lips softly brush against the top of her head and then he covered the spot with his cheek, as though to hold the kiss in place. “I love you, Ruth Cleveland, and it took almost losing you to make me realize it.” His arms tightened around her. “When I get back home, I know a beautiful spot on the river where we need to spend some time.”
The Light of Logan sparkled.
40
Monday, September 18
Stewart Gleason strode into the House of Representatives chamber. Same seat, new session. As he passed the pictures of Robert E. Lee and Thomas Jefferson, he tipped his chin in acknowledgement. He felt more in sync with their struggles than ever before. Assuming his seat, he removed the morning’s folders from his briefcase.
As the chamber filled with new and returning representatives, laughter and banter bounced around the room.
Gleason heaved a sigh and settled back into his padded chair.
“How was your summer?” Todd Myers, now bronzed golden, smiled down at Stewart.
“Looks like you got in some of that beach time you wanted,” Stewart Gleason responded.
“Took the wife and the girls for a few weeks to Hilton Head. Had to get away, you know?”
Gleason knew. He had spent the summer in Columbia, doing everything he could to get the Salvation Law declared illegal. In the end, he’d failed. No tan colored his skin. But a few wrinkles around his mouth and at the corner of his eyes had deepened.
Representative Myers took out identical files to Gleason’s. He tapped them on the desk, aligning the corners. “You had a bit of excitement in Logan, I hear.”
Stewart grimaced. He knew the questions would come, and he had rehearsed his answers. He said what Todd already knew. “The mayor enacted the Salvation Law.”
“I heard. We considered it but decided to pass.”
“Smart move.”
“I heard there aren’t any churches in Logan anymore.” Todd chuckled. “I can’t imagine that’s true.”
Stewart faced Todd. He felt nothing but sympathy for the junior legislator who most likely would still be trying to do what was right long after Gleason finished this last term. “It was hard at first. The church buildings were locked. People didn’t know what to do. Some folks believed all law was gone, and they had the freedom to do whatever they wanted.”
“You had some looting.”
“We had a lot of looting, harassment of Christians, and even a couple deaths. But you should be afraid, Todd. You know why?”
Representative Myers raised his eyebrows.
“The Salvation Law was repealed in Logan, but the law is still on the South Carolina books. Any county, at any time, can implement it. Are you a Christian, Todd?”
“I suppose so.”
“You had better figure it out. When the law comes to your town, and it eventually will, your people better know the difference between attending church and following Christ. Too many people, good people, get so busy doing that they forget to develop a relationship with their Lord. When the church building closes, they have nothing. But in Logan, we learned and we grew.”
“I heard Joseph Ackerman went crazy.”
Yep, there it was, the part Stewart had been waiting for, the part he had rehearsed. People wanted to hear the sensationalism, not the real story. “Todd, if you believe in God, you have to also believe in the power of Satan.” Stewart scratched his chin. This was the tricky part. He didn’t want Todd, or anyone else, to get the wrong idea, but the truth had to be told.
“Joseph was able to do things that he shouldn’t have been able to do, like get a seat in the House, gather followers in Logan, and convince them to hate the church. In a matter of weeks, he became a cult-leader. He became his own law. Guys followed him: the unemployed, blue collar, even a junior attorney who worked with him at the courthouse. They did things for their leader they would not normally do. But Todd, here�
��s the important part. It took one person to stand up to Ackerman, one girl, and his power collapsed.”
Stewart knew his friend didn’t understand. He didn’t understand it himself and he had lived through it. It was unbelievable that a man could control crows. Or that the same man, singlehandedly, had closed the churches and turned honest townsfolk into an angry mob. But it happened and it would happen again. Joseph Ackerman had disappeared, along with the crows, but the power behind him remained.
Todd’s laugh had a nervous lilt. “That’s quite a story.”
The gavel fell on the fall session of the House of Representatives.
Stewart Gleason opened his first folder. The greatness of the American political system—and he believed in this greatness—would never over-power the evil that fought against it. He would fight, and other legislators across the states would join him, but eventually they would lose. Satan would win for a season. But Stewart, along with other Christians, would do all they could to slow the decay of this great country one vote at a time. And in His perfect time, God would exact victory for eternity.
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