s33 Closure

"Objection!" Attorney Slie exploded from his seat. "Objection!"

"Order in the court room!" Judge Boyel rapped his gavel to quiet the court room. "On what grounds?"

Mr. Slie's mouth opened and closed silently.

"Order in the court room!" the Judge pounded his gavel again as amazement continued to buzz through the audience. "On what grounds?" he repeated to the the astounded attorney.

"Not fair!" he at last sputtered. From the look on his face he was grasping at straws in the water.

"Overruled!" the gavel fell again, and silence ruled for the moment.

Someone produced a handkerchief, and Spike wiped his face. He looked unashamed out across the townsfolk, most of whom he knew. His gaze rested on a careworn and faded older woman huddled in the far right corner. Dressed in faded outdated clothing, her attire matched her face: she appeared the personification of hopeless suffering.

"Most folks here know me. You know what I've been--through most-a-my life. I'm not here to defend that life, 'cause there warn't no defending it...but to them that say that Jesus Christ and his gospel can't change lives--I'm living proof that they's wrong. Gene Wade," Spike started to grin at Gene, "Gene, when you punched me out that day on that side street, you must-a knocked some sense inta me somehow..." he stopped to wipe his face again. "The day I met Gene, I was paid to whup the tar out of him. Scrawny kid. Didn't weigh a hundred pounds wet...should a been easy...but, he beat me...then treated me to ice cream at Greene's. That day I met Gene and David...and Jesus on a side street, and it changed my life. David Pickerell taught me that ya got to do the right thing...because it's the right thing to do."

"Objection!" Attorney Slie regained his voice. "Testimony should be struck from the record!" he demanded.

"On what grounds?"

"Volunteering information..."

Judge Boyel paused, "This is my court room...the testimony will remain on record."

**********************************************************************************

Gene lay balanced in the hammock, sunlight filtering through the leaves of the tall elm tree. As he thought back through the years, he felt old for all of his fifteen years of life. Shep jumped up, startled, as Gene rolled out of his cocoon.

Jed sat in his favorite chair whittling on a piece of oak, and Agnes had her embroidery thread spread on the seat beside her as she sat working on her embroidery. They looked up as Gene sauntered toward them as they sat on the porch.

"It's too hot to lay in that blanket!" he exclaimed as he pulled his harmonica out of the pocket on his bib overalls. He plunked down on the top step of the porch and began to play a haunting melody as the dog plopped down in the shade of the bottom step.

"That dog follows you every place..." Jed observed with a chuckle. "When you were gone he often lay just searching the driveway...listening for some kind of inkling."

"He's getting old though," Agnes added gently. "Look at the white hair around his muzzle. And he's getting around a lot slower than before."

"Kind of like you and me," Jed winked at Agnes and grinned.

"I suppose so, but at least we're still getting around!"

"Praise the Lord!" he agreed.

"Is it time to get Nissa up from her nap?"

"Yes, it is," Jed replied. "Gene is it your turn?"

"Yes, sir, I believe it is," he grinned, slapped his harmonica against his palm a couple of times to get any moisture out, then stuck it back in his pocket.

As happy gurgling baby sounds began to filter out the window a few minutes later, Agnes and Jed smiled and began to put their projects away.

"I sure do miss that boy when he's gone," Agnes said softly. "I'm so glad he's back."

"Yes, but...we won't be able to keep him. Time will snatch him away."

"I know it Jed," tears began to slide quietly down her cheeks. "I know it...and I want him to do what he needs to do..."

"But why does it have to hurt so...to let go," Jed finished her thought for her.

"What's the matter, Aunt?" Gene came into the room bouncing a giggling baby Nissa.

"I'm just an old codger that's feeling sorry for myself," Agnes wiped away tears.

"You will never be an old codger...not to me. You'll always be young and gorgeous, the second woman I've ever loved."

"Oh, go on with you, now!" she waved him away and wiped her eyes some more. "Give Nissa here. I'll change her clothes, while you go get ready for church. We're supposed to go to David's for games after church. That new family that moved into town will be there as well," she added with a subtle hint.

Gene combed his hair a little more carefully than usual--to please his Aunt, and was more careful about his clothing. Why, he wondered, would the daughter of the new teacher in town be interested at all in a country farm boy? With a sigh he put on his newsboy cap, and stumped down the stair steps.

Not, he thought as they pulled up later that evening at the Pickerell house, that Angela Dorking was unpleasant, but he could not see that she would find him exciting...but who can fathom the mind of a girl?

"So, have you been getting settled in?" Bessie asked Mrs. Dorking as they waited their turn at croquet.

"Yes, but..." she hesitated as the other players caught up to them.

"Oh yes," her husband exclaimed to David, "just a few more weeks and the school year will begin. Yes, and I'm ready to dig right in!"

"Yes, but what?" Bessie asked after the ladies took their turns and waited for the men.

"Well, Bill is so out going that he makes friends easily. This town seems so small--as to what we're used to--and it's hard to get into the...group."

"Since I've been here all of my life, I guess I don't really know..."

There was small talk when the men caught up.

"Do you have any hobbies? There are several groups that meet and do different projects?" Bessie offered.

"The last school district we were in there was a very good Bridge club," Edna said.

"I believe there is a Bridge club here in Littleton as well," Bessie said as she took aim.

"Bridge?" David scowled slightly.

"Yes, Bridge, David. You know, the card game?"

"Well, yes I know the card game..." he looked annoyed that she would ask such a childish question.

"I believe we will just make the round in time before it gets too dark. What do you think?" Jed looked anxiously to the last wicket in the near distance.

"I think you are right," David's scowl lightened up and his good humor returned. "There are refreshments in the house as well."

"Your parents are such good croquet players, and they get along so well," Angela held a bowl of ice cream and a cookie.

Gene picked up a cookie and crumbled it into his ice cream.

"I think they're headed down a long rough road," Jed challenged an earlier statement.

"Yes, they are real jewels," Gene wished he could listen to the other conversation, as the older folks discussed politics, religion and important events of the evening.


About to take a bite of her cookie, she hesitated. "Do you always talk so...queer? That is an odd way to put it...and why did you do that?"

"Why did I do what, and what is so odd about calling people jewels?" he said with a frown.

"You put your crumbs in your ice cream. In the circles I've been in--in the larger schools--" she said with a shrug and let him finish the sentence in his own way.

"Well, you know we're out of the way...kind of back woods know nothings out here," he replied controlling a smoldering anger.

Angela casually smoothed down her dainty silk dress, careful not to add cookie crumbs to its embellishments. She was of two minds. The one agreed with the young man sitting in the chair across from her.

These were back woods know nothings out here compared to the different schools she had been in. After all, her father was a good history teacher and a good ball coach. She could not understand why he had agreed to take this job...even if he did know the principal of the school, and on such short notice.

The other mind was that in all of those schools she had never met a boy as compellingly handsome as this young man, and she could not figure out--with just one meeting--which mind she wanted to win the battle.

"You may be right," she said. "I didn't mean to make you mad, either way," she smiled.

"There you have it then. I won't have to be anything but what I am, and neither will you. Agreed?" he took a scoop of ice cream and cookie crumbs. "I learned that trick from Sir, Hughes, knight in HMS, when we were in England on holiday this summer. This way I won't have to be concerned about getting crumbs on my Tuxedo, you see..." he said in his most British accent just as the young lady was about to take a scoop of her ice cream.

"Yes," she giggled, and covered her mouth. "I agree, Gene Wade."

"So, Gene, that is your name, right?" Bill Dorking asked.

"Yes, sir. Gene is my name," he said with a slight smile at Angela.

"Are you out for sports?"

"I'm not enrolled in high school, sir."

"That was excellent, Mrs. Pickerell," Mr. Dorking handed his plate to Bessie then turned his attention to the young man. "I understood you were just fifteen...Not enrolled in the high school? Why ever not...your grades not good enough? If you're good at sports, perhaps..."

"No, sir..."

David spoke quickly, "Gene was one of my star pupils...he was so far ahead of his grade I had to send to University to get some books for him to finish last year."

"Then why? Is it...money?"

"No, sir. Money is not the problem."