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“You believe that Selk found the coin in the orchard and that young Amery killed him to get it?”

“Exactly. Selk himself may not have realized the value of his find, but Amery’s excitement must have made him suspicious. Probably Amery tried to buy it from him for a nominal sum. When this failed, he strangled the old man, took the coin, and probably carried the metal-detector in the sack to some secluded ravine or gully and hit it from sight.”

“How could a long-handled metal-detector be carried in a sack? This has been troubling me since you first mentioned it.”

Going Home

by M. R. Granbeck

Paul Hanes didn’t really listen to the old man who gave him a ride. He really should have...

* * *

The road was a gray mist where the beam of the headlights sliced through the downpour. Ivan Merthau hunched over the wheel, his shoulders tense. His gray hair fell across his forehead, pointing to the drawn and tired face.

The silence of the car was heavy and dead. The rain on the roof was a dim echo from a world beyond as the windshield wipers ticked off the minutes.

When the headlights splashed over the figure at the side of the road, Ivan thought it was a trick of his imagination. But as the car came abreast and passed, he saw the man with his thumb up. Without second thought, he tapped the brake pedal to slow and stop the car on the slippery asphalt.

The huddled figure ran to catch up. The door opened with a burst of cold, damp air. He was young, with long hair and sideburns. His heavy black eyebrows were drawn together in a tight frown. He held his coat collar high around his nick.

As he climbed in the car, he wiped his hand across the dark hair that dripped water down his face. He slammed the door quickly as though afraid Ivan might change his mind. Without turning he said, “Thanks, Mister.”

“Terrible night to be alone,” Ivan said.

“I’ve been standing in the rain for an hour. You’re the first car to come by.” The boy tried to mop his face and hands on the soggy coat, and he couldn’t control the shiver that shook him.

“This road isn’t traveled much, especially at night,” Ivan agreed. He turned his attention to his driving. After several minutes he asked, “Where are you going?”

There was a pause before the boy answered. “West. California maybe.”

“How did you get on this road?”

The young man stared out the window. “I dozed off and didn’t notice when my last ride turned off the main highway. When I woke up, I was in the middle of nowhere.” He turned and looked at the old man. “No offense, if you live around here, Mister, but this place is really way out, you know what I mean?”

Ivan frowned at the unfamiliar phrases.

“You live near here?” the boy asked.

Ivan shook his head and a limp cord of hair fell across his eyes. He seemed not to notice. “I’m going home. I’ve been away a long time.”

“A visit?” The boy looked at him, curious.

Ivan smiled. “No, I’m going home to stay. Funny how some people try to get away from the place they started out, but they have to go back in the end anyway.”

The hitchhiker looked at him questioningly. “You mean like splitting with the home town scene but finally coming back to show ’em all?”

Those unfamiliar phrases again, but perhaps they were talking about the same thing. Ivan nodded in the dim light. “Have you ever been lonely?” he asked suddenly.

The boy laughed. “Lonely? What’s that? I’ve been alone all my life. Ain’t never had anyone care if I live or die. That’s the way I like it. Nobody gets my problems, and I don’t get nobody else’s either. Naw, I’ve never been lonely.”

Ivan only half listened. His voice was soft and far-away. “I used to enjoy being alone. I never realized how much until—” He let the words drift off. “I was never lonely until after Ella came.”

“Ella?”

“My wife. Yesterday was our anniversary. One year. She reminded me.” He shook his head and his face tightened. “It seemed so long.”

The boy shifted nervously and hunched down in the seat. His hands crammed in the pockets of his jacket and his eyes darted quick looks at the passing blackness outside.

Ivan didn’t notice. He went on. “I didn’t marry Ella until I was fifty-nine. Imagine being a bachelor all those years and then taking a step like that! Oh, I’d known her a long time, back in Clearmont.” He glanced sideways again. “That’s thirty miles south of here. That’s where I’m going now.” His voice rose above the monotony of the windshield wipers. “I never should have let Ella talk me into leaving.”

The boy leaned his head back. “You just checked out on the rest of your family?”

“There is no one else. I’ve been alone most of my life, like you. Until Ella came along.” “You said you knew her a long time.”

Ivan nodded. “After her first husband died, she set her cap for me. At least that’s what folks in Clearmont said. Ella began stopping by my place, cleaning up the house, fixing meals, fussing over me. Before I knew it she had me down at the courthouse and she was Mrs. Merthau.” He shook his head as if it were still hard to believe.

The boy grinned in the darkness. “It didn’t work, huh?”

Ivan sighed. “It seemed nice at first, you know, not having to do for myself all the time. But it wasn’t long until I realized that I wasn’t doing anything for myself. Nothing at all. Not even thinking.

“Ella made all the decisions, took charge of everything. After a while I knew there was no use arguing.” His sigh was like a thin wind over a barren field. “A few months ago Ella decided we should leave Clearmont and move up to Springfield.”

The boy shifted and looked out the window. His hands dug deep in his pockets.

“I don’t like the city.” Ivan’s voice shook with emotion. “A man gets used to living one way. It’s hard for him to change. We should have stayed in Clearmont.”

“It wouldn’t have been any different there,” the young man said without interest.

“Maybe. But leastwise I’d be among friends, people who know me and that I can talk to. A man needs someone to talk to.”

The boy shook his head. His hair had begun to dry and curl around his ears making a black frame for his face. “I don’t need anyone. I like being a loner.”

“Don’t seem right. A young fellow like you being lonely.”

“I’m not lonely!” His voice was angry and he tensed and sat up. “I told you, I like it this way. I don’t need anyone. I don’t want anyone. I can look out for Paul Hanes!” He stopped abruptly and looked away.

“It’s okay, Paul. I understand,” Ivan said. “I know what it’s like being lonely.”

“Stop saying that, old man! I don’t want to hear it anymore!” Hanes glared at him.

They were quiet a long time. It was Hanes who finally broke the silence. “How come you’re going back to Clearmont?”

“I belong in Clearmont.” A smile touched the corners of Ivan’s mouth.

Paul Hanes shrugged and stared out at the road again. The rain was heavier, leaping in erratic sheets from the wheels, blotting out everything but the patch of pale yellow light in front of the car. The rivers of water on the side windows made the letters of the roadsigns blur and run together.

“Where are we?” Hanes asked.

“About twenty miles from Clearmont.”

“I know, I know, but where? What highway is this? What town are we near?” He leaned forward and peered through the windshield.

“This is County Road 123. In a few miles we cross State Highway 40. Then it’s all farms ’til we get to Clearmont.”