Never Ending Spring, Page 2

  "Why is it taking so long? Mommy and Daddy are going to see Mrs. Skinner this morning before we go to the zoo," Emily said. "She's been sick you know."

  Emily liked Mrs. Skinner. Whenever Daddy and Mommy would let her visit with them, she always gave Emily a cookie and a glass of ice-cold milk.

  "Yes dear, I know. Emily, why don't you watch for Mommy and Daddy on the front porch? You can sit on the swing, but wait till Daddy stops the car before you run to them, okay?"

  "Okay Gram."

  Emily picked up her Bible storybook, hugging it to her. It was the one with the pictures of all the animals including the two lions going into the Ark. She struggled to carry both her doll and the book. Today at the zoo, she would see a real lion. Daddy had promised her, and Daddy always kept his promises.

  Carefully shutting the wooden screen door so it wouldn't slam, Emily perched on the edge of the swing so she could run to her parents right away; after Daddy had stopped the car of course.

  Watching her granddaughter, Ruth stepped to the back door.

  "Jack, something's wrong. They should have been here forty five minutes ago," Ruth said, concern lining her face.

  Avoiding his wife's eyes, Samuel "Jack" Johnson continued to whittle on the axe handle he was making to replace the one broken last week.

  A tall, muscular man in his mid fifties, his white hair and lined face made him look older.

  "Now dear, they probably just got delayed, or maybe they had another sick call to make." Jack tried to sound convincing but he couldn't shake the horrible feeling he had had all morning. It reminded him of the day Rickie died.

  "It's not like Kristie and Jim not to call if they were delayed. They know how much Emily's been looking forward to this."

  "I'll call the Skinners. Maybe Mary has taken a turn for the worse," Jack said, laying aside the handle. Stepping into the kitchen, he picked up the receiver on the old wall phone and spun the crank.

  "Harriett, get me the Skinners, would you please?" he said into the mouthpiece.

  "I'll be happy to Jack. How is everybody at your house this fine summer day?"

  "We're kinda worried. Kristie and Jim were supposed to pick up Emily an hour ago. You haven't heard anything from them, have you?"

  "No, I haven't, Jack. Let me know if you hear from them. I hope everything's alright."

  "I'm sure he just probably got to talking."

  "I'll connect you, Jack."

  "Thank you, Harriett."

  The Skinners answered on the first ring.

  "Bill, how's Mary doing this morning?" Jack asked when Skinner picked up the receiver.

  "Oh she's doing a lot better, thank you. Are Pastor Jim and Kristie going to stop by before they go to the zoo?" Bill Skinner asked.

  "Why? Haven't they been there yet?" Jack asked, his anger rising.

  "No. I hope everything is alright." Bill said.

  "They're probably still at the house."

  "I called but there was no answer," Bill said. "Maybe they're over at the church."

  "I'll drive down and see. Thanks, Bill."

  Jack slammed the phone back on its hook before Bill could answer.

  "What's wrong?" Ruth asked, nervously wiping her dry hands on her apron.

  "That stupid son-in-law of yours is still fooling around at the church. I told Kristie not to marry a preacher. You stay here with Emily. I'm going to have a talk with him!"

  "Now Jack, take it easy," Ruth said. Her words were lost on him as Jack was already out the door and halfway to his old pickup. Starting the engine, he carefully backed out of the driveway, keeping an eye on his granddaughter on the front porch. On the short drive to the church, he tried to calm himself. He never wanted Kristie to marry a preacher in the first place; all they cared about was money.

  Pulling into the driveway of the parsonage, Jack parked behind Jim and Kristie's green Buick. Glancing into the open trunk, he saw it was crammed almost to capacity with balls, bats, blankets, and a picnic basket.

  After hammering on the front door and receiving no response, Jack walked into the living room.

  "Jim! Kristie! Where are you?"

  No answer!

  As Jack called out, he became increasingly apprehensive. The house was strangely quiet. Going to the kitchen, he noticed the table still littered with dirty dishes and the coffee pot still on. Jack's apprehension turned to fear. Kristie, a flawless housekeeper like her mother, would never have left her kitchen that way. His heart jumped into his throat when he saw the shattered dish on the floor. Opening the back door, he saw the two figures lying on the ground at the back door of the church. A cry tore from his throat like a wounded animal.

  "Kristie! No, no! Kristie!" he screamed. Kneeling beside his daughter, he gently turned her over. The back of her white blouse was soaked in blood. His heart breaking, Jack held her in his arms. Her eyes opened slightly and she searched his face, smiling weakly.

  "Dad, is that you? Please tell me, is Jim alive?" she asked.

  Laying her gently on the ground, Jack said, "Hold on honey, I'll be right back."

  Feeling Jim's wrist for a pulse and finding none, Jack stumbled into the house.

  Whirling the crank, he cried into the phone, "Harriett, send an ambulance and the Sheriff down to the church! Hurry!"

  Not waiting for an answer, he slammed the phone onto the hook and ran out of the house.

  Flying across the yard, Jack picked up Kristie and cradled her head in his lap. He made no attempt to stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks.

  "Dad, how's Jim?" Kristie asked again, weaker this time.

  "He's gone, isn't he?" she said, her eyes filling with tears.

  "Yes, honey, I'm sorry, he is."

  "Dad, tell mom I love her. Please take care of Emily."

  "Of course, we'll keep her with us till you're out of the hospital."

  "No Dad, the Lord is taking me home. I can feel it. Dad, turn your life over to Christ. He's the only one who can comfort you and Mom."

  Jack swallowed, unable to answer. Looking beyond him, Kristie smiled. "Yes. I'm ready," she said, her eyes taking on a heavenly light.

  Glancing behind him, Jack saw no one.

  Turning back to her father, Kristie said, "Dad I love you. Jim and I will be waiting for you, Mom and Emily on Heaven's shore." Her voice trailed off and her body became limp.

  Sobbing, Jack hugged Kristie. He was still hugging her when the ambulance arrived, followed quickly by the sheriff.

  Twenty years ago, Bob Curry had joined Elm Grove Community Church; now, seeing his pastor and Kristie lying dead, a rage went through him he had never experienced before. Motioning to one of the deputies to take Jack aside, he started barking orders.

  "I want tape up all around the church, parsonage, car, everything! I don't care if you have to go to Evansville to get more! Nobody, and I mean nobody, goes in or out without my say so! Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes, sir," the three deputies echoed at once.

  At that moment, a figure streaked past. The deputy nearest the church made a grab, but missed. Breathing hard, her gray hair in disarray, Ruth ran to where Jim and Kristie lay covered in blankets.

  Before the ambulance attendants could stop her, she had pulled the blankets back. Looking into their dead faces, she fainted.

  When she came to, a tall lanky man in a white uniform was leaning over her waving smelling salts under her nose. Picking her up, Jack hugged her to his chest.

  For the next few moments, Jack and Ruth held each other as their world collapsed around them. Finally Ruth tried to stifle her sobs and lifting her tear stained face to her husband, she said, "Jack, I left Emily on the front porch. She saw the police cars and ambulance; we have to tell her."

  "Can't we wait?" Jack said. .

  "Oh honey, I wish we could. I know the Lord himself will comfort her as only He can," Ruth sobbed. "We have to tell her."

  She started to say more but the words caught in her throat.

 
"God!" Jack snorted. "What kind of god takes a little girl's parents and makes her an orphan?"

  Ruth had no answer for her husband; at least nothing he would believe.

  "Harris!" Bob Curry called to his chief deputy. "Run these folks home."

  "Jack, I'll have one of the men drop off your pickup later. We'll get your statement at that time." Sheriff Curry said, laying his hand on Jack's shoulder. "We're gonna get this guy Jack. Believe me, we're gonna get him."

  "You better Bob, because if I find him, I'll kill him with my bare hands," Jack said, tears still streaming down his ruddy cheeks.

  Hearing the door open, Emily lifted her head. Smiling, she asked, "Gramps, they'll be here soon, won't they? I hope we can see all the animals but I 'specially want to see the lions."

  Falling on the couch, Ruth buried her face in her hands, tears running between her fingers. Laying her book on the floor, Emily ran to her grandmother and threw her tiny arms around her neck. She cooed softly, "Gram, Gram, don't cry. I don't want to see any old lion. I'll tell Mommy and Daddy I want to stay with you and Gramps instead. Don't cry."

  Tears again flooded Jack's eyes as his thoughts returned to the loss of his son.

  For years, he had worked to own his own farm. Building it up, he was very proud of his accomplishment.

  The year Rickie was born, they brought in a bumper crop and paid off the mortgage. The fall of that year, they put up the new barn. Things were going so well, he even let Ruth talk him into attending church occasionally.

  "Too much religion can spoil your life" became Jack's favorite saying. Neither Ruth nor the pastor could change his mind. As soon as Rickie could walk, Jack took him everywhere, first to town for supplies, then to the barn to do chores, and finally to the fields on his fifth birthday. Rickie and Jack became inseparable. To see the tall man was to see the small boy.

  Jack would never forget that day in the spring of '31 no matter how hard he tried. It was still too wet to work the fields.

  "Ruth, I'm going to take down the oak by the south pasture gate before it falls on the fence," Jack stated that fateful April morning.

  "Don't take Rickie this morning; he might get in the way."

  "Now Ruth, don't worry, I'll watch him. If he's gonna be a farmer, he has to learn."

  Turning away, Jack gave Rickie the task of carrying their lunch.

  Beaming, Rickie said, "Daddy and I are gonna have a picnic."

  Ruth watched until they disappeared behind the barn, the tiny boy carrying the sandwiches and fruit for their lunch as he struggled to match paces with the tall man carrying an ax, water jug and saw.

  As Ruth mopped the kitchen floor, she prayed that the Lord would help her reflect the love of Christ to her husband. She had just finished her chore and was relaxing with a cup of warmed-over coffee when she heard a bone-chilling scream. Dropping the cup, she flung open the back door. Jack ran full speed in the direction of the house, carrying something wrapped in his denim jacket. He stumbled and fell. He held the bundle in his outstretched arms, protecting it from hitting the ground. Regaining his footing, he ran on, his long legs eating up the distance.

  "Ruth!" Jack screamed, "Ruth, please help!"

  Ruth flew across the back yard, almost colliding with him in the cornfield. Laying Rickie gently on the ground, Jack unwrapped the coat from his face. Rickie's eyes were closed and blood seeped from his ears, nose, and mouth.

  "I couldn't stop it! I couldn't stop it, I couldn't stop it! I tried to, but it was too late!" Jack moaned over and over, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  "What happened?" Ruth asked as pain ripped through her heart. She reached out her hand and caressed Rickie's already cold face.

  "I made sure Rickie was out of the way. I always do, you know that, Ruth. But just as the tree started to fall a baby rabbit ran under it and Rickie followed it. I couldn't stop the tree from falling; I just stood there like a fool."

  After he arrived, Doc Prichard said, "Rickie's neck was broken - he never knew what hit him."

  And after the funeral, Ruth steered him away from the small grave, saying, "It's not your fault, Jack. No one could have loved Rickie more than you did."

  Jack refused to be comforted. For months, Ruth would wake in the middle of the night to hear the rocking chair seesawing on the porch, or see Jack's shadow walking the fields and pasture in the moonlight. One morning she waited for him until the breakfast eggs were cold. Going to the barn, she found Jack halfway through his chores staring with unseeing eyes at the field over which he had carried Rickie's body.

  Laying her hand on his arm, she said, "Honey, I know it's hard, but we have to remember our little boy is in God's heaven right now running and playing just like he did here on earth!"

  Jack dropped the full bucket of milk, its contents splattering his shoes and legs as he whirled on Ruth.

  "Don't you ever mention God to me again!" he shouted, pointing a shaking finger in her face. "I don't want anything to do with a God who kills a child." Turning on his heel, he stomped into the woods behind the barn. Ruth spent the rest of the day in prayer, listening for his footsteps but not hearing them until nightfall.

  Two years later, Kristie was born. Her presence was like a salve to soothe their troubled hearts; she was such a sweet child. However, Ruth's fears that Jack would spoil her soon proved unfounded. Ruth made sure that Kristie attended church every Sunday and said her prayers before meals and at bedtime.

  She read Bible stories to her until Kristie could read for herself. Ruth could hardly contain her joy the day ten-year-old Kristie received Christ as her Saviour. As she matured, it became apparent to anyone who came in contact with her that Kristie's beauty wasn't just skin deep, but radiated with a heart full of love for Christ and those around her.

  Chapter 2

  Located in the western portion of central Indiana, Elm Grove is a typical Midwestern farming community, founded in 1816 by John Blye, his wife Maddy, and John's two brothers, Everett and Jeremiah. Leaving a westbound wagon train at Fort Harrison, they had traveled south until they settled on a rise of ground east of the Wabash River. The streets were not planned as much as laid out to accommodate each person who built a house in the area. Consequently, the town was laid out in a crazy quilt pattern.

  Descendants of the original grove of elm trees for which the town was named still stand encased in the city park in the center of town. "Imported Elms," as the town folk call trees not native to the area, as well as oak, chestnut and sycamore line the shaded streets.

  Coming in on State Road 63 from the south, you encounter Grey's Farm Supplies and Grain Elevator owned by Eric Grey. His inventory consists of everything from barbed wire to corn and soybean seed, the most common crops in central Indiana.

  When asked why he didn't sell other kinds of seed, Eric always tells about the guy from Chicago who bought 30 acres of river bottomland to grow rice.

  "He was doing okay until the Wabash started rolling. When she starts moving, you'd best get out of her way," Eric always says with a laugh. "Anyway, she came up, took his crop, the shack he'd put up to live in, his car, and almost took him! He left on the bus the next day. Haven't seen him since."

  When the corn and soybean crop cycle is completed, the farmer can then bring in his harvest and Eric will give him a fair market price.

  On the west side of the park sits a low building with white clapboard siding. Gold lettering on the large plate glass window declares it to be The Crossing Restaurant. A passing hobo persuaded Mildred Hardesty to let him paint the sign years ago in exchange for three meals a day while he completed it.

  Proud as a peacock, Mildred will sometimes wash the window two or three time a day when the dust is flying. At her own expense, Mildred placed three benches and two picnic tables across the street in the park. Here many of the old timers gather to discuss and solve the problems of the world... if only the world would listen! Many years ago, Mildred had begun the tradition of serving coffee to them on these benches
from spring until winter's chill chased the elderly men inside. Mildred enjoys serving picnic lunches to families who want to take advantage of the shade at her tables. "Gives me a chance to get out of the hot kitchen," she says with a laugh.

  At the end of the block, facing the park from the north is the Elementary School. The one-story brick structure is the pride and joy of the people of Elm Grove; it has a large gym which doubles as an auditorium. All social events which would normally be held in the park are held here in inclement weather.