Never Ending Spring

by Darrell Case

The scent of strawberry assailed his nose.

  "You smell like one big strawberry!"

  He tickled Emily until her gales of laughter filled the house.

  "What are you two doing, having a giggling contest? Jack, I hate to tell you, but if you are, Emily wins hands down," Ruth said smiling.

  Soon Emily was absorbed in the Bible story. Jack barely succeeded in keeping the bitterness out of his voice as he read.

  Slipping into their bedroom, Ruth knelt beside the bed. "Oh, Lord, break through this hard shell that Jack has around his heart. Please bring him to yourself."

  After tucking Emily in, Ruth returned to find Jack working on the ledgers, something he never did this late at night.

  "I believe if we increase production by ten percent even with some lean years, we can have enough money to put Emily through college in about ten to twelve years," Jack said, still studying the book.

  "Can we do that? Increase our profits by that much?" Ruth asked quietly, leaning over his shoulder.

  "Well...if we find another fifty acres to farm and add five to ten head of cattle to the herd, I think we can."

  "What about the Miller place? Margaret said Ernie is planning to retire next year."

  "Retire? What's he going to do with all of his time?" Jack said, shaking his head.

  "He says he wants to spend more time with his children and grandch---," Ruth said without thinking.

  "Time for bed!" Jack said, pushing himself back up from the desk. "It's been a long day."

  Still scolding herself, Ruth meekly followed.

  Jack sensed more than saw the shadow enter the bedroom. From her deep breathing, he could tell Ruth was still asleep. Bracing himself, he slowly reached for the lamp on the bedside table; flipping the switch, he flooded the room with light.

  Emily stood at the foot of the bed, her blonde curls in disarray, rubbing sleep out of her eyes with the back of her fist. From her other hand dangled her old rag doll. She looked so much like Kristie, Jack thought for a few seconds he was dreaming.

  "Gramps, when are you and Gram going to Heaven?"

  The question took Jack by surprise, and then he saw it wasn't just sleep; tears glistened in Emily's eyes.

  "What's wrong?' Ruth asked, sitting up blinking.

  Emily repeated her question to her grandmother.

  "Honey, it's going to be a long, long time," Ruth said with a catch in her voice. "Here, why don't you sleep with Gramps and me tonight, sweetheart?"

  Jack tried to speak, but couldn't swallow the lump in his throat.

  Snuggling down between Jack and Ruth, Emily said sleepily, "I hope when you go to Heaven, we can all go together. I'll ask Jesus if we can." Her voice trailed off.

  Laying in the darkness, Jack found sleep a long time in coming.

  ****

  Ruth thought of keeping Emily home for three or four weeks, but at 9 A.M. the next Sunday, the little girl ran into the kitchen. Jack and Ruth were enjoying a third cup of coffee.

  Her crisp blue dress buttoned crookedly, looking confused, Emily asked, "Gram, ain't we going to Sunday school this morning?"

  "Do you want to go, sweetheart," Ruth said.

  Emily nodded her head vigorously. "I like Sunday school, Mrs. Skinner tells real good stories. She makes everything so real."

  A few weeks later, Ruth felt the Lord urging her to take over teaching Kristie's Sunday school class. Ruth had taught Sunday school for years, however she felt very awkward trying to replace Kristie, knowing how she had loved her boys and girls.

  "Mom, I'm afraid for Billy Jones," Kristie had said several months before as she and Ruth sorted out the clothing from the missionary barrels into boxes for shipping. "He's started running with a rough bunch of boys.

  "Let's pray for him dear." Ruth said, covering Kristy's hand with her own.

  So Billy was put on Ruth's prayer list. Kristie not only prayed for the little boy but put actions to her prayers. When he would misbehave in class, she would take him aside and with her arms around Billy, pray for him. A month later when Jim gave the invitation, Billy made his way to the altar and there received Christ! People said Kristie had loved Billy into the kingdom. The change in his life was so evident his mother had started attending the Sunday morning services.

  ****

  Jack refused every invitation to hear the visiting preachers. Ruth prayed earnestly but still he resisted all her efforts. His heart seemed to have turned to stone; his love for Ruth and Emily was the only gentleness he showed. Some mornings, when Jack rose at 5 a.m. as he did every day summer or winter, he would discover Emily lying curled up in a tiny ball on the floor at the foot of their bed.

  He would pick her up gently, careful not to wake the sleeping child. Then he would tuck her in beside Ruth; Emily's arms would automatically go around her grandmother's neck.

  Tears moistened Jack's eyes each time as he closed the door on the sleeping pair.

  ****

  A shudder passed through Ruth as she turned the key in the lock. The parsonage had been Jim and Kristie's home for the last six years. The simple little two-bedroom house sitting on the south side of the church was not well furnished. Always helping someone in need, Kristie and Jim kept second best for themselves. Beside Ruth, Jack ran a weary hand through his snow-white hair. Over the years, they had visited Jim and Kristie dozens of times but now as they entered the home, they felt like intruders.

  Opening the closet door, Ruth laid Kristie's dresses on the bed and made no effort to stop the tears running down her cheeks.

  "Jack, I just can't believe they're gone," she said, holding up a blue dress with lace at the sleeves and throat. "Kristie and I made this one together for her to wear at the Sweetheart Banquet at church last Valentine's Day."

  "Honey, do you want to wait on this for a while? Bill Skinner said the church is no hurry," Jack asked with a lump in his throat.

  "No, I'll be all right; it's just hard to know the times we shared on earth are at an end." Leaving Ruth to go through the bedroom and kitchen, Jack went to the back of the house.

  Jim's office was just the way he left it that fateful Saturday morning. The only difference was a small mountain of mail covering the center of his desk. Sighing, Jack sat down, pulled up a chair, and began sorting through the stack. Throwing advertisements and appeals for money in the wastebasket, he was about to discard a white business-size envelope from Farmer's Insurance Company when the words 'Policy Enclosed' caught his eye.

  Tearing it open his eyes scanned the document.

  "Ruth! Ruth! Come in here," he shouted.

  "What is it, what's wrong?" Ruth asked, running into the room, her face pale.

  Unable to speak Jack shoved the policy into her hands.

  "Oh Jack, they did provide for Emily's education!"

  "Twenty-five thousand dollars should get her through any college she wants to go to." Jack said. "We'll put it in the bank and let it draw interest 'til she's ready."

  "What about the fifty acres from the Wilson's?" Ruth asked.

  "We'll use that for her other expenses." Jack said with a weak smile.

  No matter how busy Jack was, he always took time for Emily; however, she was never allowed unaccompanied in the fields while he was working. One day in October, he was nearing the end of the soybean harvest when he heard a sound. The drone of the combine as well as the hours Jack was putting in had made him drowsy. Hearing the sound again, he jerked awake.

  "Gramps, Gramps, look what I got fer you." Emily stood not ten feet from the whirling reel of the combine, a late fall rose in her pricked and bleeding fingers.

  Slamming on the brakes, Jack switched off the engine. "What are you doing out here? How many times have I told you to stay out of the field? You could have been killed." he shouted.

  Emily's lips turned down and tears filled her eyes. "I just wanted to give you a rose."

  Jack looked up to see Ruth running across the fields.

  "Emily! Emily! Are you all right?" />
  "Ruth, where have you been? I thought you were watching Emily! What am I going to have to do? Hire a baby-sitter?"

  "I'm sorry Jack; I thought she was playing in the backyard."

  Climbing back up on the combine, Jack said, "Just keep her out of the field."

  "I just wanted to give him a rose," Emily said with tears flowing freely now.

  "I know, honey. Let's go back to the house. We'll put some Band-Aids on your fingers and put the rose in water. You can give it to him tonight."

  Chapter 5

  Located in a 125-year-old two-story brick house, the county sheriff's department is one block off the east side of the Sullivan Courthouse Square. The house serves a three-fold purpose, the south half being the jail with a large metal cage and picnic table in the middle and six individual cells surrounding it. The north portion consists of the dispatcher's station and sheriff's office. Upstairs, the living quarters for the sheriff and his family finishes off the house.

  In his office this morning, Bob Curry was not happy. For all intents and purposes, the investigation of what the newspapers were calling "The Elm Grove Murders," had come to a dead end. Sheriff Curry had ordered every known criminal residing in the county picked up and interrogated. Some of the more likely candidates, he grilled himself. Nevertheless, the result was always the same. Nobody had seen or heard anything.

  "Run down the list for me, Ike. What have we got?" Curry said, pacing back and forth. His face creased in a frown. He never liked sitting at a desk since it made him feel too confined. Now as his chief deputy remained silent, he stopped and leaned over its cluttered surface, his hands spread, grasping the edge.

  "Well?"

  Harris stroked a non-existent beard.

  "We found where he went through the woods," Ike said, consulting a dog-eared notebook. "He apparently parked his car in a lane on the Williams' place, but we couldn't find any tire tracks. The ground was pretty hard, chief; you know we didn't have any rain for over a month."

  "What are you doing, Harris, making excuses? How do you know he parked his car there and not somewhere down the road?"

  "Weeds crushed, some branches broken, leading in that direction. Looks like someone came through there in a hurry. And here's the strange thing. There were two marks leading to the road, but no tread in them. As you know," Ike continued, "Bill Harvey was over in Greene County searching for that lost little girl. By the time he got his dogs on the trail, it was too cold."

  "Give me some good news, Ike. You got any good news, or is it all bad?" Bob snapped, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

  "Well, we do have a suspect. Lonnie Greggs stayed at the church a few days before the murder."

  "He lives in Bloomfield, doesn't he?"

  "Yea, on the south end. We've had him in jail a couple of times for drinking."

  "Sure, sure, I remember he was in the cell with Dennis Brown the night he died. Said he slept through the whole thing. Do we have a location on him?"

  "We've got an APB out on him but he seems to have skipped town. We questioned his mother and girlfriend; they both swear he was with them the morning of the murder."

  "All right, what about the tire tracks, how did that happen?" Curry asked.

  "The best we can figure the killer put some type of covers over the tires and his shoes. As for the victims, the coroner said they were stabbed with a large knife. Most likely a hunting knife but we've been unable to locate it. There were no fingerprints in the church, but the doc says from the angle of the wounds on Reverend Mays, it looks the killer is under six feet."

  "How tall is Greggs?" Bob asked.

  "Five nine."

  "But he has an alibi."

  "Yeah, if you want to believe the women," Ike said.

  "So what you're telling me, Ike, is after a month of investigation, we have nothing to go on. No hard evidence at all."

  Ike looked uncomfortable. "Sorry."

  "All right, Ike, I want you to start over. Canvas the neighborhood around the church. Maybe somebody'll remember seeing something, anything. Check the stores again; he had to buy that knife somewhere. Go back to the church, walk the woods all the way to where the vehicle was found. Go to Terre Haute. Go to all the car lots. See if any vehicles from Sullivan County were traded in the day of the murder. Bring me back a list of who sold them and who bought them."

  "What about Johnson?" Ike asked. "Can I investigate Jack?"

  "All right but keep it quiet. I don't want him getting wind of it."

  "Maybe his son-in-law made him angry," Ike said.

  "Not angry enough to kill. You go ahead and investigate but you'll find out I'm right."

  ****

  Jack sit across from Bob, his face an iron mask.

  "So you're giving up, just letting the maniac who did this go free," Jack said.

  Curry rubbed his eyes, trying to rub away the headache he had had all day.

  "That's not what I said, Jack. I said we checked every possible lead."

  "You're just going to drop it?"

  "No, I'm not dropping it but I do have other cases that need my attention," Curry said.

  "Hogwash."

  "Jack, you're not the only one to lose a loved one. You know the Browns over on Mill Creek Road?"

  "Yah, I heard their son hung himself in your jail. Pretty careless of you, letting something like that happen. Don't you usually watch out for suicide?" Jack asked.

  "Pastor Jim spoke to him the day before and he said Dennis had made a decision to turn his life over to Christ. Now the Brown's are threatening to sue, and my only possible witness has disappeared."

  "Who might that be?"

  "Lonnie Gregs. He swore he didn't see anything, but I think he's just scared. The coroner's ruled Dennis's death a suicide but the Brown's are not convinced and I'm beginning to think maybe they're right."

  "How do you know he didn't kill this kid and Jim and Kristie, too? He's on the run, isn't he? He surely has something to hide," Jack commented.

  "He had an alibi; said he was with his mother and girlfriend."

  "So they're lying to protect him."

  "The girlfriend, possibly; the mother, no. She's a Christian; goes to church over around Bloomfield."

  "A Christian? Hah! Just another hypocrite, lying to protect her kid."

  "Not every person who names the name of Christ is a hypocrite; your wife has a wonderful testimony. Look, Jack, I've got an APB out on Lonnie for questioning. He'll show up sooner or later and when he does, we'll bring him back to Sullivan County."

  Jumping to his feet, Jack walked to the door; turning, he pointed a shaking finger at Bob.

  "I'm telling you, you find this Greggs, and you'll find the murderer."

  Jack slammed the door; it bounced back open, hitting the wall.

  ****

  Searching his desk drawer, the sheriff pulled out a bottle of aspirin. Removing two, he swallowed them, draining the dregs of a cold cup of coffee.

  "Anything I can do to help, sheriff?"

  Setting down the cup, Bob looked up to see William Robert Strickland, "Billy Bob" to his friends, leaning against the door frame. With his small build, narrow face, and big ears, Billy Bob wore with shame the title "Mickey Mouse" from the first day of grade school.

  Curry smiled. In spite of his comical appearance, the special deputy was a solid rock in a world of turmoil. Several times, Curry had requested the man be made a full deputy but the county commissioners refused. Yet Billy Bob had just put in twelve hours without pay, and if asked, he would gladly work another twelve.

  "No, Billy Bob, thank you. You go home and get some rest."

  "Okay, sheriff, if you're sure? I'll leave my radio on just in case."

  ****

  On his way through Elm Grove, Jack stopped to visit with Eric Grey, as was his custom. When Eric built the grain elevator ten years ago, he added two extra rooms behind the store for living quarters.

  "Being a bachelor, I don't need much, just some
place to eat and sleep and listen to the radio," he had said in answer to Jack's query. Though Eric was the son of a minister, he told Jack he never gave Christianity a second thought. Therefore, Jack considered him his best friend. Whenever Jack would visit Eric, he would turn the minding of the counter over to one of his men. A small wiry man in his late thirties, Eric never received any social company besides Jack.

  Today, as usual, he had an opinion.