The Blameless Bystander

By Autumn Writer

Chapter 7—Strategies

“You’re kidding, of course!” Bob Jackson sneered while Nathan winced as they sat together in the closed-door office.

“It all seemed so innocent at the time—it still does in a way,” Nathan answered. “I never saw this coming, Bob.”

“I know, I know!” a tired Jackson sat back in his chair and sighed deeply. “So you were trying to back-door the tutoring program fees and got Ed Cassidy to run interference for you on the behalf of the union?”

“That’s about the size of it, Bob,” Nathan admitted.

“Right motive—wrong method, Nathan,” Jackson scolded. “If you had come to me I could have gone to the Chamber of Commerce or the Rotary Club. Someone would have come up with the fees.”

“Sorry, Bob. It seemed so easy at the time and O’Toole was happy to do it. The student’s placement was important, too. It’s my fault; I should have thought it through better!”

“Alright, alright!” Bob replied. “Breast beating session is over. Now we have to figure out how to manage this. I can’t go out to my sources now. This thing with Chandler is too controversial. Everyone would avoid it like the plague. Besides, if I tried that it would only be a matter of time before O’Toole’s name would come out, and the student’s name along with it. We can’t have that.”

“O’Toole offered to take a polygraph,” Nathan added.

Jackson thought for a moment, scratching his chin. “Interesting! It’s premature, of course. We’ll let Chandler get himself out on a limb and then put O’Toole on the machine, and the polygraph will be the saw that cuts the limb off behind him.”

“Good thinking, Bob!”

“You’re sure that O’Toole is okay—we checked him out and everything?”

“I told the agency to be extra careful on any sign of this kind of problem, just on account of his quitting the priesthood,” Nathan assured Jackson. “I can have Henry Thompson monitor the student. Henry’s smart and I trust him to be confidential.” Jackson nodded again.

“If there are any doubts about O’Toole I want him dropped like a hot potato,” Jackson warned. “…and I mean yesterday!”

“Bob, this new guy, O’Toole, is really good. He’s the answer to the Math Department that we need. His Trig classes are two chapters ahead of all the other sections. His tests are more difficult, but his students’ scores are much better—and he doesn’t curve. I’ve checked this out personally.”

“Impressive! That’s why we’ve got to protect him on this Chandler thing—if we can.” Bob replied.

“Sure enough, Bob!” Nathan agreed.

“Nathan, keep Cassidy on your side on this issue. You may need him at some point. Do any thing you can to keep it all under wraps,” Jackson ordered.

Nathan stood to leave. “I understand, Bob,” he said

“And one more thing, Nathan,” Jackson ordered as Nathan was about to open the door to leave. “Get that kid out of O’Toole’s apartment!”

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

Nathan returned to his office right after his meeting with Bob Jackson. Abby was at her desk.

“I need to have a meeting with James O’Toole and Henry Thompson as soon as you can put it together,” Nathan said as he walked past her on his way to the inner sanctum. “See if you can get Henry in about fifteen minutes ahead of O’Toole.”

“I’ll get on it right away,” she answered calmly. “While I do that, I suggest that you take a look at the Sentinel. It was just delivered. Look at the editorial page.”

Nathan’s eyebrows arched in sudden interest. He picked up the newspaper and carried it into his office with him. He turned to the editorial page. He didn’t have to look hard to find what Abby was talking about.

“Oh, Brother!” Nathan thought to himself as he read it.

MINISTER AND SCHOOL MUST COME CLEAN

From his pulpit, Reverend Ethan Chandler, pastor of the First Baptist Church of Bates, has made scurrilous, yet vague, accusations about the personnel teaching in Bates Schools. If his claims prove true, it presents a clear danger to our children. Yet, the Reverend has been curiously silent on details. If he knows something specific, this paper urges him to bring his information fully into the public eye.

Bates School officials, on the other hand, have done nothing to answer Chandler’s charges. If there is nothing to hide, then they should say so publicly. Yet, Bob Jackson, School Superintendent declined to comment when this paper gave him the opportunity. If they are hiding a sexual predator, then shame on them. If the charge is false, they should be happy to let the truth come out.

The controversy is ripping at the seams of our close-knit community. In the opinion of the editors, both Rev. Chandler and the School Board owe the people some answers.

This paper stands ready to afford either party the opportunity to allow the public to know the truth.

Nathan finished reading the short piece and let out an exasperated gasp. “Freedom of the Press!” he muttered to himself. He called out to Abby, who was making calls at her desk. “You better get Ed Cassidy in here, too,” he sighed.

Just then Nathan’s phone rang. “I’ll get it, Abby,” he called out to her. “I’d bet a month’s pay that it’s Bob Jackson.” Nathan’s hunch was correct.

Nathan: I just read it, Bob.

Jackson: This changes all our plans!

Nathan: Not necessarily—at least not right away. I think that I can get Ed Cassidy to help us.

Jackson: I’m listening!

Nathan: I’ll get him to have the union insist that confidential personnel files remain sealed. You can insist to the press that it’s paramount to protect the identity of the student.

Jackson: I like it, Nathan. It won’t stop them for long.

Nathan: Every day that it does is a win for us.

Jackson: What about that tutor in the apartment problem?

Nathan: I’m taking care of it as soon as we hang up.

Jackson: Good! Keep me posted.

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

Harvey English’s Barber Shop was full of patrons. It was always good for business when there were big doings in town. Harvey’s shop was the center of Bates’ political, religious and philosophical debate.

“Ethan has been around a long time,” Harvey argued to Brice Barlow, a local lawyer, as the listener sat in the chair and Harvey clipped away. “He’s part of us.”

Charley Hancock, Village Police Officer chipped in. “All I know is that I haven’t received any sex offender notifications from the State.”

“But you have to be convicted to get on that list,” Barlow objected. “A lot of these guys are never caught.”

“See?” Harvey seconded the point.

“Still, we’ve only got Ethan’s word for it,” Barlow jumped to the other side of the fence.

Bert Hodges operated the Feed Mill. “Like the paper says, they should all just lay their cards on the table. The truth would come out one way or another.”

“Ethan should go first—he brought it up.” Charley asserted.

“Ethan’s pretty stubborn about what he will or won’t do. He figures that he’s got…you know...the Man Upstairs on his side,” Harvey reminded them.

“The School Board is an elected body,” Barlow chimed in. “If the public demands it, they have to answer.”

Augie Reiss owned a farm on one of the hillsides overlooking the town. “Did anyone ever think that Ethan’s just making this all up?” He rose from his chair and spat out tobacco juice from his chaw into Harvey’s sink. “He was at the farm a few weeks ago trying to get us to give more money to the church. He said that the church is ‘financially strained’—which I took to mean ‘broke’. He might be stirring up a lot of hysteria to get the collection plate filled up better.”

“Oh, no!” Harvey sternly answered. “Ethan wouldn’t do that! He’s been a man of the cloth in this town for years. Everyone respects him.” The rest of the men murmured in agreement against the farmer, clad in overalls.

“Oh, yeah? I’m not so sure.” Augie spat another dollop of brown elixir into the sink.

“If I go against Ethan, I go against the Church!” Harvey pleaded. “I won’t do that!”

“My wife goes to the Presbyterian Church,” Augie stated, dismissing Harvey’s oath. “I’ve been thinking of switching, too. In fact, I just decided to.”

“You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do,” Harvey shot back.

“Harv,” Augie answered, “I’ve got to get back to the farm. I’m giving up my place in line.”

“Whatever!” Harvey looked away, getting in the last word as Augie closed the door behind him.

“Someone ought to straighten that guy out!” said a voice; no one was sure who said it.

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

Henry Thompson sat across from Nathan. Nathan had just disclosed that James was the subject of the Reverend Chandler’s tirade.

“He is a former priest,” Nathan explained. “He left on his own accord. His record is clean as a whistle—in every respect.”

“Those bastards!” Henry cursed. “They have to ruin every good thing that comes along, no matter how big or small.”

“They haven’t ruined it yet, Henry; just calm down,” Nathan tried to soothe the hot-headed young man. “We can save this, but you’ve got to help me.”

“Anything!” Henry vowed.

“I’m not worried about O’Toole, but I can’t take any chances,” Nathan began. “I need you to monitor Raymond. Take him under your wing. He can’t know it. Just get close to him and let me know if you think that O’Toole is trying to teach Raymond anything except math formulas—you know what I mean.”

“I’ll do it,” the younger man agreed.

“You’ve got to do it without anyone knowing it,” Nathan continued. “Not Raymond, not James. No one!”

“I’ll do it,” Henry repeated.

“I’m sure that it will come to nothing, anyway. Like I said, I can’t take any chances.”

At that moment James knocked on the door. “Come in!” Nathan called out and James entered and took a chair.

“James,” Nathan began, “I just filled Henry in on the situation with Chandler. He’ll keep it confidential.”

“Raymond’s doing real well…” James started. Nathan interrupted him.

“Bob Jackson said that your apartment is off limits for the boy.”

James hung his head and shook it sadly. “They’re going to win and I’ve done nothing to be blamed for.”

“You’ve got to see Bob’s point of view,” Nathan admonished.

“Put me on the machine!” James insisted.

“I mentioned that to Bob today. He said maybe at some future time, but not right now.”

“So, I’m just a bystander while this all plays out?” It wasn’t really a question that James was asking, except, possibly to himself. “The more things change, the more they stay the same,” he lamented.

“What are you talking about, James?” Nathan scolded. “We just have to find another location, that’s all. I was thinking about the den in my house.

“That’ll buy you plenty of trouble with the union!” It was Ed Cassidy, who was just walking into the office. “I assumed that it was about this tutoring thing. I read today’s editorial.”

“Jackson said that we have to change the venue,” Nathan said to Ed.

“Can’t blame him!” Ed replied.

“Is there a room in the Union Offices that you can loan us?” Nathan asked.

Ed shook his head. “I’m catching it already from the teachers. That would drive them over the edge.”

“I know a place,” Henry Thompson said in a subdued tone. “I thought of it after our last meeting, but it seemed that James’ apartment was working out so well that I didn’t want to upset the apple cart. I should check it out first. The person doesn’t know that I’m suggesting it.”

“Give! Give!” Nathan insisted. “We don’t have time for formalities, Henry.”

Henry hesitated for a second, and then glanced at the other men around the room. He took a breath and let it out. “We should ask Raymond’s sister if we can use her house.”

“I don’t understand,” Nathan queried, “I thought that Raymond was the oldest.”

“He’s the oldest of the children by the current marriage. He has a half-sister. Raymond’s father had a daughter before his marriage to Shirley.”

“Sound’s promising!” Ed exclaimed. “Does she live in town?”

“She works in this school—it’s Tracey Jacobs,” Henry revealed.

“No kidding!” Nathan exclaimed. “I never put it together.”

“Tracey knows that James is tutoring Raymond. I mentioned it to her. She was happy to hear it, but wanted to stay in the background. Tracey and Raymond’s mother don’t get along very well,” Henry explained.

“What’s her job in the school?” James asked.

“She’s the Girl’s Phys-Ed teacher,” Nathan answered.

“Everyone knows who Tracey is,” Ed remarked before breaking into laughter. Henry and Nathan joined in.

“She lives in my neighborhood,” James added. He started to mention the man he saw coming out her front door early one morning, but he thought better of it. Tracey’s liaisons weren’t his business, and he was taking no chances on spoiling the solution.

Nathan turned to Henry. “This is perfect! It’s a family connection, a watchdog, an education professional. Henry, you’ve got to work this out. I’m leaving this up to you.”

“I’m sure that Tracey will do it. It’s his mother that worries me. There’s bad blood there. I don’t know the reason. I’ll see that it gets done one way or the other,” Henry promised.

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

Deer Season was coming soon to the hills of the Southern Tier. It was never said out loud, but whispered in certain circles, that bagging a trophy buck was even more important than winning the Sectional Football Championship—but not by much and it depended on to whom one spoke.

If they could afford it, many townspeople bought small plots of land in the hills, deep in the woods, and built small cabins on them that they used during hunting season. Few had electricity or indoor plumbing, but they had wells and propane stoves. Some used wood. They were normally vacant for most of the year, except in Deer Season.

Jarrod Morris summoned his son. “Brad, I want you to go up to the hunting camp on Sunday and get it cleaned up so that it’s ready for Deer Season.”

“Dad, that’s a lot of work!” the young man protested. “It will take up my whole Sunday.”

“I can’t help it, Brad. I’m planning on taking some clients up there on Deer Day. I can’t have it looking like a pig sty,” the elder Morris insisted. “Look! There’s twenty bucks in it for you if you promise to do a good job.”

Brad realized that any effort to argue his way out of the assignment would be futile, and could put his twenty in jeopardy, as well. “Dad,” he proposed. “Can I ask Donny Harmon to go with me to help? We could get it done faster.”

“I guess so,” Jarrod answered. “No drinking! Those roads are narrow and it gets dark early. You can take the SUV.”

“Not a problem, Dad,” the son answered, “but I would have to share my twenty with Donny, and twenty isn’t that much…”

“Alright—twenty each!” conceded Jarrod, reading the tea leaves.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to go up after the game on Saturday and stay overnight—so we can get an early start cleaning up!”

“Only if Donny’s parents are okay with it, and remember—no drinking!” Jarrod firmly laid down the law. “You’ll have to take some food with you. There should be some propane left in the tank for the heater and the stove.”

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

Becky Chandler had just helped her mother with the dishes after the evening meal. She was on her way up to her room to do her homework, but stopped first at her father’s study. He was working on his Sunday sermon and she approached on tenterhooks. After a few moments of silence Ethan looked up.

“What is it, child?”

“Mother said that I had to ask you,” she began.

“Yes?”

“I wanted to ask you if I could go to Karen’s sleepover party after the game on Saturday afternoon,” she blurted out. “Everyone’s going to be there.”

“Everyone?” Ethan asked sarcastically. “I’m someone and I don’t plan to be there—unless this is an invitation. Am I invited? If not, it won’t be everyone.”

“No!” she laughed nervously. “I meant all of the cheerleaders.”

“And what about boys?” he demanded.

“Oh, no!” she vowed. “It’s just for the cheerleaders. Karen’s parents will be there!” she hastened to add.

“Just the cheerleaders—no boys?”

“Right!” Becky assured him.

“If one boy, one cigarette, or one bottle of alcohol appears, you’re to come straight home. Is that clear?” her father commanded imperiously. “No exceptions!”

“Yes, father, don’t worry!” she promised. Becky bounded up to her room. “We’re going over to the school to take apart the Homecoming Floats on Sunday, so I won’t be home until late in the afternoon,” she called out as she ran up the stairs. Ethan had already gone back to working on his sermon. He heard what she said, but wasn’t listening.

The pang that Becky felt at having lied to her father didn’t last long. She knew that she could never tell her parents about Brad. They would make her cut the relationship off. They would tell her that she was too young for such things. She wasn’t, of course, at least in the way she saw it. He had, after all, ‘made a woman’ of her.

Deep down, she loved her parents and wanted them to know how she had won the attention of the most prized ‘catch’ of the Senior Class. It wasn’t just that he was the quarterback. Soon that distinction would be ancient history at the end of the season. He was the boy that all the girls wanted—and he was all hers. That made her the girl that all the other girls envied and the one the boys wanted, but couldn’t have—Brad had claimed her. She wanted her parents to know of her triumph, and she couldn’t tell them.

So, she lied to them. It was, as she saw it, fitting.

***********

Jarrod Morris sat in Ethan Chandler’s study in a chair near his desk on a brisk autumn afternoon. Ethan was at his desk, looking pale and nervous. Morris was relaxed. The Valley Sentinel lay on the desk, folded open to the Editorial Page.

“It looks like I’ll have to come out with O’Toole’s name on Sunday,” he announced soberly.

“Why so glum about it, Ethan?” his friend asked. “It wasn’t long ago that you were chomping at the bit and I had to hold you back.”

Ethan nodded to acknowledge Jarrod’s point. “It’s different now,” he admitted. “The School Board will be forced to reply. They’ll protect O’Toole. It will be according to the Sentinel’s dictates. We’re not ready yet—we could lose. I wanted it to be according to my timetable.”

“If you recall, that was my advice when you started this,” Jarrod reminded him. “And, by the way, you should change that ‘we could lose’ to ‘you could lose’.”

“But you said…” the Reverend started to say, but Jarrod interrupted.

“Do you want my help or not?”

“I can’t afford to lose,” Ethan blurted out. “This church is my life. I can’t start over now.”

“You won’t have to,” Jarrod assured him. “We’ll make this a ‘separation of Church and State’ issue. We’ll make it look like the Sentinel is siding with the School District and forcing you to be subservient to them. You’ll refuse to disclose anything further because you won’t allow the Church to be bullied by their ‘conspiracy’.”

“Yes, yes!” Ethan agreed. “I see it!”

“The congregation will rally around you even more closely,” Jarrod explained further. “We’ll just keep it up until the School District spills out the name.”

“I’ll do it!” Ethan vowed.

“You’ll be carrying the Bible in one hand and the Flag in the other!” Jarrod cheerfully assured him. “How can you beat that?”

Just then, Ethan’s wife, Judith, walked into the study with a tray set with coffee cups and pastries. The men ceased their conversation as she set down the service.

“Judith, you’re too good to us!” Jarrod complimented the dour woman.

“It’s nothing at all, Jarrod. Glad to do it,” she answered, in a voice devoid of expression.

Judith was a woman who always looked sad. She could have been attractive, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be. She was tall, like Ethan, with ashen-blonde hair dusted with gray. She wore it in a tight bun at the back of her head. She was slender, but her figure was always hidden by her shapeless clothes. Mostly, she was known by her taciturn demeanor that kept people at a distance.

“Anything else, Ethan?” she asked. Her husband shook his head.

“In that case, I’ll leave you two to your business,” she said. Jarrod and Ethan watched her as she paced slowly out of the room.

Ethan took a sip of hot coffee and then set the cup back on the saucer. “Life is less simple than it used to be,” he thought out loud.

Jarrod continued with his coffee, pausing long enough to ask, “How so, Ethan?”

“It’s everything!” Ethan answered. “We never needed so much money to keep the doors of the Church open. People would never think of being short on their tithes.” Jarrod nodded and shrugged. “They would never dream of switching churches, like they do now, “Ethan continued. “There were beliefs set in stone that everyone shared. No one questioned. It would only be necessary to keep repeating the lessons. People would keep listening. They had respect for the Word.”

“You don’t have to give up the old truths,” Jarrod replied. “We just have to repackage them.”

“I’m glad that I have you to help me,” Ethan admitted.

“We make a good team, Ethan,” Jarrod said. “We have to be careful on this ‘School thing’, but we’ll make it work for us in the end.”

“I never wanted to be anything but a preacher,” Ethan confided. “I always knew that I had the calling to speak for God. My voice is His voice; my hands are His.”

Jarrod did not answer, realizing that it sometimes took extra thinking to decipher what Ethan meant when he spoke.

“What we’re doing is really for the good of the School, for the kids, in the long-run, Ethan,” Jarrod finally broke his silence. He didn’t notice that Ethan had closed his eyes, and turned his face toward the ceiling.

“Suffer the children and forbid them not to come unto me…” Ethan mumbled.

“What was that, Ethan?” Jarrod called out loudly.

Ethan opened his eyes and shook the cobwebs from his head. “Nothing, Jarrod,” he said. “A passage just came into my head.”

“We’re doing well with the collections,” Jarrod changed the subject. “We were able to catch up a month on the mortgage. That will keep the bank off our back for awhile.”

It was time for Jarrod to return to his office.

“You look tired, Ethan,” he advised his friend. “Why don’t you try a catnap for a little while?”

“I’ll just ask Judith to brew some more coffee,” he answered. “I’ll be alright.”

“Just remember the plan we agreed on,” Jarrod reminded as he opened the door to leave.

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

The smell of sex hung in the air; the marijuana smoke was quickly covering it up. Brad sat cross-legged on the floor. He took a deep toke, and then passed the joint to Becky. Across the room on a sofa Donny Harmon and his girlfriend, Allison, did the same.

“My father told me ‘No Drinking’!” Brad exclaimed after he finally exhaled, and then fell backwards laughing. “Thanks for the advice, Dad!” He began laughing again and the others joined him.

“My father told me that if I saw a cigarette I had to go straight home!” Becky giggled.

“It’s not a cigarette, it’s a joint,” Donny corrected from across the room.

“I didn’t know that,” Becky played at sarcasm. “Brad always calls something else a ‘joint’!” The four young people dissolved into laughter once again.

A great day for them was closing out. It had been a Homecoming win for Bates on the gridiron. Brad scored two touchdowns and passed to Donny for another. The Mantle of Invincibility was infectious. After the game they followed through with their plot for a lovers’ tryst in the remote cabin. They paired off as soon as they arrived. Donny and Allison took the bed in the upstairs loft; Brad and Becky the fold-out sofa bed downstairs. After a round of sex the boys went out to dispose of Brad’s used condom; Donny hadn’t used one. They returned with their stash from the glove compartment of the SUV.

The sex on this night was, by far, the best that they had ever experienced. For one thing, it was the first time that they actually had done it in a bed. There was an element of comfort; a sense of not being hurried; an aspect of adultness that the girls enjoyed. For their partners there was the taboo of doing it within earshot of another couple doing the same thing. It was just a little kinky—and that meant exciting. There was the marijuana. Even better, the young men proved to each other that past boasts were true.

Brad and Donny needed some time to ‘reload’ so they had taken a little break for a touch of cannabis. It was Becky’s first experience with it. Between the sex and the marijuana, they were all feeling pretty good.

Becky and Allison got up to go outside to the ‘Ladies’ room’, which was really an outhouse about thirty yards away from the cabin. Brad and Donny stripped off their clothes and got back into bed. As the girls came back into the cabin they split up to their assigned places.

Becky quickly peeled off her clothes. She had dispensed with her underwear when they had taken their short break, so the process was quick. The moonlight streaming in through the nearby window outlined her lovely silhouette. Becky was tall and slender, like her parents. Her youthful, supple form was classic. Brad smiled to himself at how he had gone ‘top shelf’. He wondered if Donny, above in the loft with Allison, was looking down at Becky, too. Brad found himself wanting to see Allison in the same way.

“An eyeful for and eyeful,” he quipped the adulterated adage to himself. His thoughts shifted quickly as Becky slid into bed alongside him. From the loft above he heard moans and purrs as Donny and Allison intensified their foreplay.

Becky snuggled up against the length of Brad’s body. She was in a mood to be loved and cuddled. That wasn’t Brad’s plan. He wanted something more exciting and daring, although he wasn’t sure what that might be. He went along with what Becky wanted. In his short experience as a sex partner and boyfriend he had learned how a mood disruption at the wrong moment could lead to coitus terminus. He used the time to plan how he wanted to choreograph the final dance.

As was always the case, after a while Becky was ready for the next step. She reached down and grasped him softly. Brad thought about asking her for oral sex, but decided to put that off until her period arrived. He turned her on her back with his powerful body. Becky spread her legs for him.

“Brad! You’re forgetting your condom!” she warned from below.

“I don’t have any,” he answered in a whisper. “I used my last one. I forgot to buy new ones.”

“Brad, we can’t do this! I have no protection!” she pleaded.

Brad paused, unwilling to stop, searching for an answer. “I timed your last period. I think that you’re safe.”

“No, Brad!” she scolded.

“Hey, you two!” Donny called down. “Are you gonna talk about it—or do it?”

“C’mon, Becky!” Brad exhorted.

“No, Brad!” she insisted.

“Becky, you’re embarrassing me in front of Donny and Allison,” Brad accused.

“Ask Donny if he’s got a spare condom.” Becky suggested.

“I thought you guys were gonna cut the chatter!” Donny called out again. Allison giggled.

“Becky, c’mon. Allison’s on the pill. Donny doesn’t need a condom,” Brad retorted. “This is so humiliating!” He moved forward slightly, probing at the outside of her folds.

“I’ll take it out before I come,” he promised. “Please, Becky. Donny and Allison are listening.”

“Please be careful, Brad,” she whimpered. As soon as she said it Brad pushed into her. It was another first. Brad was careful to make it last a long time. He knew that Donny and Allison were still listening. Finally, Brad felt himself ready to ejaculate. He remembered that he had to pull out, but he wanted to time it so that he did at just the moment before he erupted.

He thrust once more deep inside Becky and that sent him over the edge. He withdrew himself from her. He was fairly sure that the first spurt came just after he cleared himself from her. Semen spat against her labia. He lifted up to finish and she felt the warm fluid covering her belly. She welcomed the sensation; it reassured her that Brad had done as he promised. She felt the poorly aimed spatter, too.

“Get me a towel, Brad—quick—before this stuff gets inside me,” she pleaded. Brad was glad to comply, since Becky was quite a mess. “That was close, Brad. You should have pulled out sooner.”

“Relax, Becky! The initial burst doesn’t have any sperm in it. I learned it in biology,” he assured her.

“I never learned that,” she protested.

“Maybe it was Health,” he mumbled.

At that point Donny and Allison descended from the loft. Donny wore only his jeans. Allison had a blanket wrapped around her. She shuffled to the bed where Becky was sitting nude. She had pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts. Allison hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.

“You finally did it without a condom,” she said and kissed her again. “I hate them! I think they should outlaw those things.”

“Yeah!” Donny agreed. “Natural contact is so much better.”

“But you’re on the pill,” Becky protested.

“You can be, too,” Allison replied. “There’s a clinic in Hornell. You’re eighteen. They can’t tell your parents if you don’t want them to. We’ll go together next week.”

“Thanks, Ali,” Becky said softly, finding new bonding with the girl that before that night she knew only slightly.

It was warm in the cabin. Brad had put on a pair of gym shorts and gotten out of bed. Becky threw on her sweatshirt and panties. She went to the water pump to wet the towel and she washed herself off better.

“It’s only eleven,” Brad said. “Why don’t we fix something to eat?”

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

The four teens were finishing the makeshift meal that the girls prepared. They had already had sex twice, smoked marijuana in between and confided in one another while they ate their meal. It was all so nice in their little hideaway, if only for one night and a day. They sat about in various modes of undress, free to do and feel as they wished. It was like being Tarzan and Jane, in stereo.

When the food was gone Brad took out the rest of the marijuana. He rolled it in a paper, lit it and passed it around. It had a mellowing effect. Inhibitions melted away.

For Becky, the new sisterhood with Allison allowed her to be more at ease with her sexual relationship with Brad. She often wondered if she was quite ready for it. Here was a new-found sister who was even more experienced than she was and gave her encouragement to soothe her nagging doubts. She forgot her worries about the condom-less sex with Brad a short time earlier.

Brad and Donny were close friends for a long time, bonding on the football field. It had been Donny who educated Brad on the ways of sex when Becky became ‘ready’. When Becky finally allowed Brad to take her in the church basement, Brad told Donny about it before anyone else.

Donny had an athlete’s body, but was quite different from Brad’s. While Brad was broad and powerfully built, Donny was lean and built for speed. Brad’s chest was smooth and hairless; Donny’s a thin forest. Becky caught herself looking at it and wondered what Brad would feel like if he had hair on his chest like Donny. Her nipples hardened as she thought about them coursing over the silky strands. Donny was looking at Becky’s long slender legs, descending down from under her sweatshirt. He viewed their full length, as she wore only her panties and sweatshirt.

Brad gazed at Allison. Though covered in a blanket, he knew that she was nude beneath it. That blanket could be undone easily enough, he knew. Donny had regaled Brad many times with stories about how wild Allison was when she was turned on.

Allison, perhaps the most sophisticated of the four, watched the other three, deciphering the gazes and body language.

“We have a lot of work to do in the morning.” Brad broke the silence. “We have to get the smell of the weed out of here before we leave. We can build a fire in the wood stove. That should cover it up.”

“It won’t be too bad if we all pitch in,” Becky added. “

“It will be worth it. This has been really cool,” Donny said. “Brad you should stop at a hardware store on the way back and get a copy of the key made.”

“Owww! That sounds interesting,” Allison cooed.

“We could come up here all the time, until we go away to college next year,” Donny said.

“It will be our secret!” Becky gushed.

“I feel like doing something special tonight,” Brad blurted out. The other three said nothing, waiting for him to continue. “Donny, why don’t you sleep with Becky, and I’ll sleep with Allison.”

Wow!” exclaimed Donny, and said no more, leaving his eyes and jaws gaping open.

“What? Not me—no way!” Becky protested. “Brad, how could you even think such a thing?”

Allison moved closer and sat down next to Becky. She thrust an arm out from inside her blanket and wrapped around her confused friend. “It will be really nice, Becky. We’ll be sisters and share our men. It will show how close the two of us are. It’ll be our secret—just the four of us,” she consoled her.

Becky looked at Donny and his forest of silky chest hair. She saw him looking back.

“He’ll take it out before he comes, just like Brad did,” Allison promised. “Won’t you, Donny?”

“Oh, sure,” he said, eloquently.

“We’ll just try it this once, and if you don’t like it, we’ll never do it again,” Allison vowed.

“Promise, Ali?” Becky asked. “I don’t want to spoil our being friends.”

Allison nodded and kissed her on the cheek. She stood, took her by the hand and walked her over to Donny, whose arms were outstretched. He embraced her, and rubbed her back through her sweatshirt and down to her sculpted buttocks.

In the meantime Allison made her way to Brad and they climbed together into the loft.

The two rematched pairs stayed together until morning. Donny pulled out of Becky as he promised and ejaculated on her belly. Donny was different, in some ways better than Brad. Becky listened to Brad and Allison in the loft. She wondered if Brad grunted and moaned as loudly with her as he did with Allison. It was a different experience. Becky couldn’t be sure if she was glad, or regretted it. She sensed that from that night her life would be different.

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

Ethan couldn’t know of his daughter’s exploits the prior night. He believed her story about the cheerleaders’ sleepover at Karen’s house. It vexed him that she wasn’t present for Sunday service. He accepted it because he had learned that an absent teen was far preferable than one in attendance who wished they could be anywhere else and wanted the world to know it.

He looked out over the congregation filling every pew. It was an easy change to get used to, and if he could keep it up the church’s financial troubles would be old news. The editorial in the Sentinel had cooperated quite nicely in Ethan’s plan to fill his church with attentive listeners. Everyone assumed that Ethan would proclaim, as urged by the Sentinel, the name of the demon threatening to defile their children. A Sentinel reporter was in the congregation, tape recorder at the ready. Jarrod Morris assumed his customary front-row seat—a sentinel in his own way.

On this Sunday Ethan abandoned his trademark ‘fire and brimstone style’. He was subdued and pensive. It was the right approach because the congregation absorbed the weightiness of the subject matter that had so quickly become the focal point of their spiritual existence. Ethan had just finished leading them in a prayer for guidance. The choir was singing “A Mighty Fortress”. The faithful were being prepared to gird themselves for battle. The mood was somber and inspiring. The hymn concluded and Ethan took the pulpit to start his sermon.

“Friends, we have prayed for guidance, and guidance we have been given,” Ethan began soberly. “Once, we thought that our way was simple—to expose sinners in the midst of our children.”

A few ‘yeas’ and ‘amens’ rose from the midst of the seated crowd.

“God has altered our mission,” Ethan continued. “We have His calling. We cannot refuse HIM.” The assembly murmured as Ethan paused. “Will you take up God’s mission with me?” he humbly asked.

The congregation sang out in unison. “Yea! We’re with you Ethan!” The organist played a four-beat chord for emphasis. The Reverend smiled at the answer, for his flock had committed themselves before learning the essential question. Ethan resumed his somber tack as the assembled worshipers quieted.

“I had intended to disclose today, the identity of the sinner in our High School. It is a sinner whose sin is so great that we can barely ponder the reality of it. Now, I cannot reveal the name. Something of great import has happened. It is for us to shoulder the burden for all—not for only our church—but for all churches in this town.” Ethan’s words were softly spoken, but the commandment thundered in the hearts of the multitude. He held them in his hand with his sober oratory.

He was Moses descending from the mountain. They sat in fear that Ethan would hurl down the sacred tablet and smash it to bits on the hardwood floor of their sanctuary. They dared not challenge him; they sat, frozen, in fear of a bolt of lightning and a clap of thunder that would signal their damnation if they even harbored a secret doubt.

“Our School Board, elected by us, makes demands of me—and that means they demand of the Church—and God. They have seduced the newspaper to do their evil bidding. Shall I tell of their demand?

The crowd erupted. “Yes! Yes! Tell us, Ethan!”

Jarrod Morris, in the front row chuckled to himself as they begged Ethan to tell them, for all had read the editorial in the Sentinel.

“They demand that I give up the name of the sinner to them. I will not do it. This Church will not knuckle under to the commands of government. It is the principle carried across the perilous ocean by the brave Pilgrims. It is why our great nation was founded.” The church erupted once again as Ethan basked in their adulation. When he was satisfied, he quieted them by lifting up his arms.

“Bob Jackson believes that he is king,” Ethan proclaimed. “We will not bow down to this self-proclaimed king. It is a principle of Separation of Church and State. I defy Bob Jackson and all his newspapers and court orders.” Ethan paused while the crowd cheered him yet again. He raised his hands for quiet and then resumed.

“We demand that Bob Jackson give up the name,” he continued. He had to raise his voice over the cheers of the congregation. He was nearly screaming. “Let it be printed in the Valley Sentinel.”

He pointed an outstretched finger at the reporter seated in the back pew. “Tell them that Miss Hardaway!” The assemblage erupted anew. All of those present in the church turned and focused gaping scowls at the lone young woman. They bared their teeth like angry Dobermans. She grabbed up her equipment and fled the church.

Ethan descended from the pulpit and the choir began singing “God Bless America.” Ethan sang the loudest and the people joined in.

When all the people were gone Jarrod Morris met Ethan as he came back inside the church. “What court orders were you talking about, Ethan?”

“I had a vision into the future,” he answered.

“Ethan, you have to be careful when you talk like that. Some might not understand,” Jarrod warned.

“That is not important,” Ethan replied. “It is only important that I understand my visions. I receive them from the Father.”

Jarrod looked into Ethan’s eyes and tried to read what was in his faraway look, but could not. “This whole thing has been a strain on us all,” Jarrod consoled Ethan and himself. “I’ll be glad when the Holidays are here.”

***********

TO BE CONTINUED