Never Ending Spring

by Darrell Case

  "Thanks Bob," Jack said, fully chastened now.

  Stopping at the mill, Jack did not see the familiar red pickup.

  "Where's Eric?" Jack asked the man behind the counter.

  "He said he had some errands to run in Terre Haute. He should be back any time now."

  Fifteen minutes later, Eric came in breathing hard.

  "Whew! I think I'd rather unload a semi than go to town." Eric said, wiping his brow.

  "Customer waiting to see you," the counter man said.

  "Jack," Eric said, genuinely surprised. Ushering him into his living quarters, Eric closed the door.

  "Did you get him?" Eric asked.

  "Yeah," was all Jack said, handing Eric the .38.

  Eric put the barrel to his nose and sniffed.

  "It hasn't been fired. He must still be alive."

  "No, he's dead."

  "Dead? How?"

  "Somebody shot at us just south of Farmersburg. Killed Lonnie, almost got me too."

  "You're kidding."

  "No I'm not. Come out and take a look."

  Seeing the windshield, Eric said, "Jack, I'm sorry I talked you into it."

  "I made my own decision."

  "Well at least Lonnie paid for his crime," Eric exclaimed.

  "I'm not so sure."

  Eric raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

  "If Lonnie was the killer, then who was shooting at us?"

  "Someone who wanted to make sure he paid for it, you know, an eye for eye," Eric offered. "I don't think those church members are as docile as they appear."

  "But if that's true, why did they keep on shooting once they hit him?"

  "Maybe with the truck weaving around, they couldn't see if they hit him or not. If I were you Jack, I'd go home and get some rest. You look beat."

  "I've got to clean this truck up too before Ruth sees it," Jack said, looking at the blood-stained dash and floor.

  Once Jack was gone, Eric hurried through the store into his private quarters.

  "Phil, go ahead and close up. I'll see you tomorrow," he called back over his shoulder to the man at the counter.

  "Sure thing, Mr. Gray," Phil said to the closing door.

  Pulling a beer from the refrigerator, Eric pried the cap off. Taking a long gulp, he sat down. It had been a long time since he'd been drunk but he would be tonight.

  As anxious as he was to get home, Jack forced himself to drive slowly. When he finally turned onto the gravel road leading past the farm, he felt he was mentally prepared to face Ruth and Emily. In a roundabout way, he had caused the death of another human being. He shivered at the thought.

  What if Lonnie had been telling the truth? What if he wasn't the killer? That meant the person responsible for the murders of Jim and Kristie, and Lonnie, Jack suddenly realized, was still out there, and whoever it was, didn't want Lonnie to talk. Well, the murderer had shut up Jim, Kristie, and Lonnie but he wasn't going to stop him!

  Jack hit the dash with his fist causing more of the shattered windshield to drop around him. With a new determination in his heart, Jack shut off the motor and let the truck coast to a stop on the other side of the tool shed opposite the house.

  Going inside the shed, Jack got a small whisk broom and rags. Sweeping out the pieces of glass, he had just dabbed handfuls of snow on the bloodstains and was congratulating himself on being undetected when he heard a gasp behind him. Jack felt like a schoolboy caught playing hooky.

  "Jack are you all right?" Ruth asked wide-eyed, taking in the shattered windshield and red-stained snow at Jack's feet.

  Jack hesitated; no he wasn't all right. Inside he felt like Jell-O. His daughter was dead as was his son-in-law, and the person he was sure had killed them had also been killed, and most likely by the same person.

  His family was still in danger.

  "Yes Ruth, I'm okay," Jack lied. No use for her to worry.

  "You found Lonnie Greggs, didn't you Jack?"

  When Jack didn't answer she continued.

  "Jack, please tell me you didn't kill him," she said, the tears starting to flow down her frozen cheeks.

  "Jack, please answer me!" she said, her voice rising.

  In one giant step, Jack faced Ruth and grasped her by the shoulders.

  "Keep your voice down," he said softly. "No, I didn't kill him. Someone else did."

  Chapter 13

  Jack prided himself on being able to deal with whatever life dished out but facing Lonnie's mother... well that was something else again.

  "I'll go with you," Ruth offered.

  Glad for her support, Jack didn't refuse. Mrs. Greggs was standing beside the casket. Her red eyes took in Ruth and Jack as they entered the funeral home.

  Freshly shaved, his hair cut and combed, Lonnie was wearing the same suit he had worn in his yearbook photo. He looked almost 18 again. Jack expected a wild tirade, however, she greeted him with the same gentle voice he remembered.

  "Mr. Johnson. I'm so glad you came," she said, taking Jack's offered hand in both of hers. "And this must be Mrs. Johnson," she said, turning to Ruth.

  "I'm so sorry," was all Ruth could think to say. Scenes of Rickie's funeral ran through her mind.

  "I'm sorry," was all Jack could choke out, the lump in his throat growing by the second.

  "It'll be all right. I knew it would come to this someday. I have the Lord and he'll comfort me."

  After a few minutes, Jack excused himself and went outside. Leaning against the railing, he breathed in great gulps of air, oblivious to the stares of passersby's.

  How could she be kind? If it wasn't for him, her son would still be alive. I wish I could be like that. The thought surprised him.

  The journey back to the farm was a silent one. Ruth, seeing the emotions playing across Jack's face, knew he was in deep thought and prayed within herself.

  ****

  For days, Jack walked the farm, barely eating, lying down only to rise again within the hour. Yet he never neglected the chores.

  One afternoon, Jack sat on the concrete bench in the cemetery under the white birch. The giant tree was said to have been planted by a grieving father over one hundred years ago. Its branches reached heavenward as if in prayer. For a long time Jack stared at the stone before him, his eyes tracing the words.

  Jim and Kristie Mays, United in Life,

  United in death, by faith in Christ

  "How could you do this to me?" he addressed Jim's side of the stone. "To allow someone to stay in the church. To risk the lives of your wife and daughter."

  He lapsed into silence. After several moments, he said to Kristie. "Emily misses you. The other day she asked me what heaven is like. I started to tell her there is no heaven or hell; there is just this life. But when I looked into those big blue eyes and I remembered the day you asked me the same question, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't see her cry like you did the day I told you there was no heaven. So I told her to think of the happiest she has ever been and that's what heaven is like. That seemed to satisfy her. Later I heard her telling Ruth there are weddings and babies born in heaven every day, because her mommy said those were the happiest days of her life."

  Across the fields, he could hear Randy Green calling his cows in for milking. Shadows on the old sundial said it was time to go. Standing, Jack started to leave, then pausing, he said to Jim and Kristie, "I hope Lonnie Greggs is there with you."

  ****

  Ruth both dreaded and looked forward to the coming of the holidays. Emily was convinced her parents would be back from heaven, if not for Thanksgiving, at least by Christmas. Nothing Ruth or Jack could say would dissuade her.

  "Mommy said she and Daddy would always be here for Christmas."

  On Thanksgiving Day, Ruth tried to interest Emily in helping her prepare the meal, but after an hour she gave up. All Emily wanted to do was stand at the kitchen window watching the road leading to the church. The picture of the tiny dejected figure broke Ruth's heart. As she and Kristie worked
the year before, Emily had watched, eyes wide with wonder as the golden turkey cooked in the oven, the stuffing, vegetables and pumpkin pie were being prepared. She kept getting underfoot until Kristie sent her to the living room with the men.

  Ruth was making the final preparations when there was a knock at the door.

  "I'll get it!" Emily shouted as she tore through the house and threw open the door. Before her stood a man in his late twenties, the woman with him, a few years younger, held the hand of a five-year-old boy. All were attired in their Sunday best. Emily's disappointment turned to confusion. "You're not my mommy and daddy."

  Standing behind her, Ruth said, "Emily this is Mr. and Mrs. Green and their son, Jeffrey. They just moved into the house at the end of the road. You remember Jeffrey from your Sunday school class."

  "I saw you in church. You sat with the girls," Jeffrey said, cocking his head to the side.

  "That's because I am a girl," Emily said, putting her hands on her hips.

  "Yeah, you're right," Jeffrey said, looking Emily over from head to toe, taking in her curly blonde hair, frilly dress and patent leather slippers.

  The statement broke the tension causing the adults to laugh. Soon everyone was settled. The women were in the kitchen comparing recipes as Ruth kept an eye on the turkey. The men sat in the living room before a cheerful fire in the fireplace. Jack was giving Randy some pointers on farming.

  In the corner of the dining room, Emily served Jeffrey Thanksgiving dinner on her toy table, seeming for the moment to have forgotten her vigil.

  Jack kept stealing glances at Jeffrey, thinking of his own son. How old would he be now? Surely as old as Randy, possibly he would have a son Jeffrey's age.

  After the meal, Jack suggested he take Randy and Jeffrey on a tour of the farm. Having grown up in Terre Haute, all Randy knew about farming came from books.

  "How many acres of soybeans are you figuring on putting in?" Jack asked as they walked a bean stubble field.

  "I don't know," Randy admitted. "I've always heard you need to rotate crops and the farm had a hundred acres of corn this year. But there's a new book by a professor of agriculture, he says if you put on enough chemicals, you can grow the same crops every year."

  Jack snorted. "You need to listen to someone who's been farming for twenty or thirty years, not some guy who's never been on a farm for more than five minutes."

  The afternoon went quick. Ruth loved having a young wife in her kitchen again. She felt the stirring of something deep within her she hadn't felt in months.

  "My biscuits never come out so flaky," Peggy said in a soft voice. "I baked a batch the other day that were so hard you could drive nails with them," she confided.

  Ruth smiled. "The first time I made biscuits after Jack and I were married he almost broke a tooth on them! We finally had to give up and give them to the hens. They couldn't eat them either!" she laughed.

  By the time the young couple left, Jeffrey had to be carried out to their truck. Having fallen asleep on the couch, he stirred when Randy picked him up.

  Opening his eyes, he smiled, then cuddled deeper into his father's arm and closed them again. Ruth's heart ached. She remembered so many times Rickie reacted the same way when Jack kept him out late at some task.

  Worn out with play, Emily lay on the opposite end of the couch. After the couple left, Jack carefully tried to pick her up with the intention of putting her to bed for a nap before the supper hour. However, as he touched her, she arose in alarm.

  "Did I miss them? Are they here?" she asked, yawning widely.

  When her grandparents didn't answer right away, Emily's chin quivered and tears ran down her cheeks. Kneeling down, Ruth gathered her granddaughter to her. Finally the tears stopped. Emily surged out of Ruth's grasp.

  Backing away, she said, "I don't want to go to church anymore. God is mean. He took Mommy and Daddy and He won't let me see them anymore."

  "You don't mean that, Honey. You'll change your mind." Ruth said.

  "No I won't! I won't! I won't!" Emily said, stomping her foot. "I heard Gramps say God's mean, always taking our loved ones."

  Turning, she ran up the stairs to the room and slammed her door with a resounding 'whop'.

  Ruth turned accusing eyes on Jack. "Well thank you, Jack Johnson. I'm so glad we have an expert theologian in our home."

  "I was just telling the truth."

  "You mean what you consider the truth, and now you're destroying the faith of your own granddaughter! Kristie worked so hard to build up Emily's faith and you destroy it one day." Ruth's eyes were blazing. Usually so mild mannered, she seldom became angry. "I'll have you know something Jack Johnson. I lost a daughter too, and despite what you thought of him, a wonderful son-in-law."

  "I didn't think..."

  "No, you never think of anyone's feelings but your own," Ruth said. Heading for the stairs, she paused, her voice softened. "Someday you're going to find you need the Lord. I---I just hope it's not too late."

  Spinning on her heel, she hurried up the stairs then entered Emily's room, tears moistening her eyes.

  On Sunday morning as Ruth dressed for church, she again asked Emily, "Please won't you come to church with me? All your little friends will be there."

  "No," Emily said, her face creased in an angry frown, arms folded in front of her.

  "Mrs. Hardesty will miss you. She says you're her best student."

  Emily almost wavered. "No!" she said defiantly. "I'll stay here with Gramps."

  Ruth sighed and opened the door.

  "Where are you going?" she asked Jack, who was now putting on his coat.

  "I'm going to drive you down to the church."

  "I'll walk!" Ruth said determinedly.

  "Don't be foolish Ruth, you'll freeze." Jack said, buttoning the last button.

  "I'll walk!" Ruth said again, slamming the door.

  That afternoon as Ruth was reading, there was a knock at the front door. She opened it to find Janice Hardesty standing there.

  "Hello Ruth, I hope I'm not disturbing you."

  "Of course not, Janice, please come in. I was about to have a cup of coffee, won't you join me?"

  They had just sat down at the kitchen table when Emily, hearing the knock, came downstairs to investigate. Seeing Janice, she tried to frown but a smile broke through.

  "I'm sorry," she said to Ruth.

  Then to Janice, "I'm sorry."

  "I accept your apology," Ruth said, "but I'm not the one you offended."

  "I'm sorry, Jesus." Emily said somberly.

  Chapter 14

  The first Saturday in December, Jack came in after finishing the morning chores. Shaking the snow off his boots, he set them on the back porch.

  "It's coming down heavy, looks like we'll get a foot or two!" he announced.

  "Can we make a snowman, ple-ase-e?" Emily cried, running to the window.

  "You know, that's just what our yard needs to make it look right," Ruth said.

  "Let's hurry!" Emily said, running to the table.

  Climbing into her chair, she poured cereal into her bowl, filling it to the brim. Ruth took the bowl from Emily and poured half the cereal back in the box.

  "Your eyes are bigger than your stomach," she said laughing.

  By the time Ruth had washed the breakfast dishes, Emily was becoming more and more impatient.

  Dragging Ruth's coat into the kitchen, she said, "I got your coat, Gram."

  "So I see," Ruth said, drying her hands on her apron before she rescued her coat.

  The snowman went up quickly.

  "Sure is a good looking snowman," Jack said, pushing a carrot in for the nose.

  "It needs something," Ruth said, her head cocked to the side. "I know what it is!"

  Snatching Jack's hat, she shoved it down onto the snowman's head and then sprinted across the yard with Jack in pursuit.

  "Hey! That's not fair," Jack shouted, scooping up snow as he ran. Catching her by the back gate, he dumped the
snow over her.

  "Oh, that's cold!" Ruth said, throwing a snowball which hit Jack in the chest.

  "So you want to play rough, do you?" Jack said grinning.

  Soon the air was filled with snowballs and laughter.