The Blameless Bystander

By Autumn Writer

Chapter 9 — Out With It!

At seven-thirty James was driving his car to Abby’s house. He was very early, and embarrassed to be so eager, like a schoolboy on a first date. There he was, however, unable to contain his energy in his tiny apartment. As he got closer, he realized just how early he was and detoured away from Abby’s house in order to use up some time.

As he drove his circuitous route he purged all the conscience pangs and second thoughts. The adultery was Abby’s responsibility, he reasoned. “Am I my brother’s keeper?” he asked out loud in the car. He snickered as he shook his head. He had trouble enough being his own keeper, and if could do that, it would be enough. It was an attitude that didn’t set quite right, but it would do for the next twelve hours or so.

As he pulled into Abby’s driveway he saw her and Bubba’s cars parked on the side loop usually reserved for the semi. James was about to park his car with the others when he saw a light in the garage come on and the overhead door slowly going up. No one was lifting the door by hand, so it had to be Abby operating it from inside the house. He took the hint and pulled into the garage. As soon as he turned off the engine the door started closing on its own.

James got out of the car and stood in the silent garage. Aside from the overhead door, there was only a single exit, a doorway that he presumed led to the house. He stood waiting for a short time, expecting Abby to open the door and greet him. When she didn’t appear he went in on his own.

The door in the garage opened to an anteroom, a passageway to the main part of the house. Beyond that was another door leading to the kitchen. James tested the doorknob and found that it was open. He decided that he would just keep opening doors until he found her.

The kitchen was dark. Only the lights from the living room beyond served to light his way. James stepped carefully to the source of the light. There, he found his first clue. Hanging from the baluster he found Abby’s skirt. Her blouse lay on the fifth step. James caught on to the game.

A pair of pantyhose beckoned him at the top of the stairs. The little, empty feet hung over the final stair riser to ensure that he wouldn’t miss it. James gathered up the wayward clothing. As he topped the stairs he found a discarded bra, signaling a turn to the left toward a dimly lit area. He looked to the right before proceeding. It was dark, but he could barely make out a large room and bedroom furniture. He obeyed the path markers and went left. He picked up the final article, Abby’s panties at the open doorway of a small bedroom.

“I see that you’ve been able to follow my trail of breadcrumbs, James.”

He stood in the doorway and found her lying in bed, the covers pulled up to her neck. Her head rested on two pillows, propped up slightly. She lay still, not moving, serene, with a small light casting shadows from a nightstand next to the bed. Her arms lay at her sides outside the blanket. He could see her shoulders peeping out from the top of the blankets, too. They were bare, showing no signs of sleeves or straps. James assumed that she was nude underneath her sheath, but nothing about Abby was ever for sure.

“I picked up some things for the ‘Lost and Found’,” he quipped.

“Just set them down in a pile, James, and add your own to it.” Abby appeared to be finished with repartee.

James kicked off his loafers and then bent to remove is socks. He unbuttoned his shirt. It joined Abby’s clothes in a growing pile. Abby watched him without moving, her expression unchanging. It was James’ Rite of Passage, dues he had to pay for his initiation to her private club. Finally only his boxers remained.

“Stop!” she called out in a soft but firm voice. “Let me!” She threw off the bedcovers, exposing her nude body. Of course, James had seen it before, but this seemed different. It was because it was only the two of them. During the threesome Vicki as host was the sponsor. James was presented Abby’s nude body as an alluring sight to behold. It was smooth and lithe, offered to his eyes as a delicious cup to drink.

In the private setting he was on his own, and that was a factor that intensified the experience. She was the palette—he the artist. He wanted to dab brushfuls of her and work them onto the waiting canvass. He was stepping beyond his apprentice role. He hoped that Abby felt so, too, because he wouldn’t mind if she dabbed some of his pigments to mix with hers.

Abby didn’t hesitate to lower his shorts and expose the rest of him. She reached a hand to his erection and smoothed her gentle fingers along the whole length of the underside. She repeated it, time after time. Every now and again, she broke the rhythm, cupping his scrotum or running the tip of her index finger lightly over the top of the glans.

For James, the pleasure was so intense that he nearly forgot to respond. When he did he reached his hands to her tiny breasts, easily covering them. He tenderly rubbed his hands over the nipples. He kept trying new pressures and directions until she began to purr her approving delight.

At long last Abby’s fingers slid through some viscous fluid leaking from him. Without saying a word she dropped to her knees. Her tongue extended from between her lips as she captured the clear drops. She didn’t swallow it right away. She allowed it to roll about on her tongue in order to detect every possible taste. Finally, she tilted her head up at James. She closed her eyes and smiled. The movement of the muscles of her slender throat told him that she was swallowing. The after-smile said that she was glad.

“This time we won’t stop,” she told him as she opened her eyes. James flexed his buttocks forward as she buried him in her mouth. She took on the artist’s role, swallowing him at one moment, nibbling the glans the next. She used her hands to caress and ease him and to urge his orgasm forward. From time to time she would glance up at him to capture his expression. James didn’t see her; he was lost in his sensations. When she decided that it was time for him to do so, he let go and she swallowed all that could send to her. When she had taken all his semen and his penis softened, she stayed on her knees, hugging her face to his groin.

James tugged slightly at her arm as a signal to stand. It was only then that they noticed their difference in height. He bent to kiss her; he tasted himself and didn’t care.

“Abby, you were wonderful. Now, it’s your turn.”

He lifted her easily, holding her in the cradle of his arms and set her on the edge of the bed facing him. Just as Vicki taught him, he had her lie back, draping her spread legs over his shoulders.

He sent his tongue straight into her. It caused her to cry out and push back against his face. He withdrew his tongue and licked the inside of the labia. He probed all around until he found the spot that brought the strongest response. His face was drenched in her essence. She held it against her with her hands. He reached up with his and clutched her breasts. He squeezed the nipples between his thumb and fingertip while lashing her clitoris with his tongue. Abby cried out louder. James increased the pressure on her nipples just slightly and sucked her bud between his lips. It was enough to bring her to the crest. James felt her shudder, then cry out. She shuddered again and pressed herself against his face harder. At last she let out a great sigh and relaxed. A few seconds later she slid to the center of the bed and James climbed on next to her.

“James, that was even better than Sunday night!” she exclaimed, already recovering her energy. “Just think—it was just a warm-up!” She reached down to James’ groin to test his hardness. He began to stir. She threw a leg over his thigh. James reached his long arm to her molded bottom and pressed her a little harder against his thigh. He felt her wetness on his leg as she started a rocking motion of her pelvis. She wrapped her hand around him. He pushed back. Soon, he was erect again.

By the time he was ready again, Abby was excited anew. Perhaps, she never ceased being aroused. When she judged him hard enough she nudged him slightly as she rolled to her back. James straddled her and bent his head to suck one of her nipples. She however, pulled him forward with her tentacle fingers that she had buried in the flesh of his buttocks. He took the hint and moved forward. Abby wrapped her legs around his. He probed for a second, found her opening and pushed into her. He looked down at her briefly, and then thrust in all the way. Abby thrust back as hard as she could.

For a while, James led the way. He bore into Abby with long, decisive strokes. Abby, below, let him know that she enjoyed the pounding from her gasps and moans. With each thrust he sensed that her pleasure gradually transformed from a contented filling to a desperate climb to the top of a peak.

After a little while Abby whispered to him, “Hold still! Let me take over.” James propped himself on his elbows and knees to allow Abby some freedom of motion underneath him. He felt her tighten the grip of her vagina and the wrap of her legs around his hips.

She thrust up as James held still, adjusting her position so that James made contact with her in just the right places. To James, it appeared that Abby was taking care of her own climax, leaving him for later. Rather than feel neglected, he savored the process, as he was allowed to observe her final ascent.

With each new thrust Abby cried out louder, in a high pitched voice. She held her mound against him a little harder at each pass. As James’ confidence grew, he found himself better able to absorb pleasure while holding off ejaculation. As he felt her approaching her moment he paid closer attention. When he thought that she was on her final thrust he pressed back powerfully into her as she rose up.

He was correct in his timing. She collapsed under him. “Oh, James!” she shouted out. James kept himself pressed into her to the hilt, felt her tense and tighten around him, enjoying her climax that he brought to her. He was nearly ready, himself. He thrust a few times. As she was about to begin her decent from orgasm, his organ expanded, and then let go of its semen as he sent his flood inside her. She cried anew as an afterwave of release crested over her as she felt his release.

***********

They were lying nude in the bed in the aftermath of sex.

“We’ll do it again later,” Abby announced as she peeled back the covers. “I’m going to freshen up in the master bath. There’s a guest bathroom next door if you want to use it.” She walked naked out of the bedroom and turned right and walked down the hallway.

James lay back, relaxing, before rising to wash up. As he came out of the bathroom he saw Abby walking toward him, wearing a robe. “I’ll be right back,” she assured him as she descended down the stairs.

A few minutes later she returned carrying a tray with two snifters of brandy. She set the tray on the night stand and then shed her robe before handing a brandy to James and rejoining him on the bed.

“You’re wondering why we’re using the guestroom,” she said after taking a sip of the tawny-colored drink. “That other room is reserved for Bubba and me.” James said nothing, just sipped his brandy, and listened.

“You have to understand,” she went on to explain. “I love Bubba. I love sex, too—I love all kinds of sex. It’s separate. When Bubba’s here, I’m his and no one else’s. But Bubba’s gone a lot.”

“Does he know?” James asked.

“When he comes home tomorrow night I’ll be wrapped around him. I won’t let him think about it or anything else,” she answered in an oblique way. “I’ll be thinking about him when he’s inside me—I won’t be thinking of you,” she warned. “There isn’t always someone available like you,” she explained. “I have to take advantage of it. We can have our own time. You’re very good, James, and we have a lot more to uncover.”

James didn’t answer, tried to understand what she told him. He was sure that Abby was a great partner for sex. Beyond that, he was unsure of much else. It wasn’t the time for wondering about such things. He told himself to figure it out later.

Abby dipped her finger into her brandy and placed a sticky droplet on each newly stiffened nipple. “Lick them clean!” James wondered if she issued a plea or command. He didn’t ponder that question very long, either.

***********

The clock mounted on the classroom wall told the students that the class period was ticking down its final moments. James didn’t have to look at the clock. He read the telltale signs of students gathering up books, preparing to bolt to the cafeteria.

“Becky Chandler, I need to see you before you go to lunch,” James called out, just in the nick of time as the bell rang just after he said it.

As the students filed out of the classroom Becky remained at her desk. She looked particularly dour as she stared out the window. James closed the door and took a seat at the desk next to hers and turned it so that it faced her. That didn’t help because Becky wouldn’t turn her face away from the window.

“Becky, you missed your second tutoring session in a row yesterday,” James began. “I waited an extra fifteen minutes, but you didn’t show.” Becky shrugged her shoulders—not the response that James was hoping for. He decided to press on. “Why didn’t you show up?”

James thought that it had to do with her father’s thinly-veiled attacks on him. He’d been wondering if Becky realized that he was his target. He understood that she might be embarrassed. If she would give him a chance, he would tell her that he wouldn’t hold her father’s actions against her. He tried to find a way to break through. “Becky, this conversation is going in only one direction.”

“What does it matter?” she sighed, still not turning to face him.

“What does it matter?” James asked back incredulously. “You were doing so well! I’m sure that you were headed for at least a C, probably a B in this course. In September you thought that you couldn’t pass. Now you’re sure to get your diploma in June—if you stick with the program.”

“I doubt if I’ll be here in June,” Becky answered back, and James noticed her eyes welling with tears.

James knew the girl well enough to see that more was troubling her than a problematic father. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Care to tell me why?”

Becky sobbed a few times. She turned to James and blurted out, “Because I’m pregnant, that’s why!”

James was stunned for a moment. His experience was in teaching boys, so he hadn’t anticipated Becky’s announcement. He gathered himself, realizing how hard it was for her to confide it to him, hoping to know what to do.

“Are you quite sure about this?” he asked.

“I missed my period,” she explained.

“There can be other reasons why that can happen,” James reasoned. “Have you …?”

“I’m pretty sure,” she interrupted. “I know when it happened, too.”

“Have you spoken with your parents?” James asked.

Becky rolled her eyes. “I just can’t!” she sobbed.

“Give them a chance, Becky. They won’t be happy about it, but they’ll always be your parents. They’ll help you. You’re going to need them”

Becky shook her head. “What if I tell them and I’m not pregnant?”

“Your Guidance Counselor?” James suggested hopefully. She shook her head.

“You’re going to need medical attention before too long, Becky,” James reminded her.

“I know that!” she protested through her tears. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“At least, buy one of those pregnancy testing kits in the drugstore. You’ve got to find out for sure”.

“Oh, no! I couldn’t do that,” she pleaded. “Everyone in town knows me. They would tell my parents!”

“The School Nurse…” James thought out loud.

“No!” she cut him off.

“What about the young man?” James asked. Becky shook her head. “Don’t tell me who it is—I think that I know, anyway,” he sighed.

“Mr. O’Toole, the only person that I trust is you!” she blurted out.

“Me?” cried James incredulously. Becky nodded, staring at the floor.

James let out a big sigh. “Becky, if I buy you a kit during the lunch hour do you promise to use it, and if you test out positive will you tell your mother and father?” he demanded.

Yes!” she sobbed.

“Come back at three this afternoon and I’ll have it for you.”

***********

At three that afternoon a sheepish Becky walked into James’ classroom. He handed her a small, brown paper bag with the drugstore logo emblazoned on it.

“Here you are,” he said, handing the bag to her. “I’m not sure how they work. I know that there are supplies for two tests in the box. Use them both to make sure. Space them out by at least a few hours. Find somewhere private. If it’s bad news you won’t want the whole world to find out at the same time you do.”

“Thanks, Mr. O’Toole,” Becky mumbled and took the bag from him. She turned and disappeared out the door.

Later, at five o’clock, Becky was waiting for Brad outside the gym door as football practice was letting out. He was with Donny Harmon and several other players. They were talking about the upcoming playoff game against Livonia.

“Brad, I have to talk to you,” she called out as the group walked by.

Brad hadn’t seen her standing off to the side. He stopped walking and put his hands on his hips. “Can it wait, Becky? I’m a little tied up here.”

“No Brad, it’s important,” she insisted. The young athlete heaved a big sigh. “I’ll catch up with you guys later,” he said to the group. They walked on and he ambled to where Becky was standing.

“Brad, I have to tell you something,” she said, waiting for Brad to put his arm around her, claiming her, like he always did. It was funny that this time he didn’t. She thought that it was because he was aggravated that she had called him away from his friends, but she had too much on her mind to worry about it at that moment.

“I have something to talk to you about, too, Becky,” Brad said as he got close to her. Becky started to speak but Brad interrupted her before she could utter a word. “Becky, I think that it would be better if we were just friends,” Brad announced. “I think that we should see other people.”

“Why, Brad?” she blurted out in shock. “I thought that you loved me!”

“I do, Becky—as a friend. It’s just that I want to try…new experiences.”

“Brad, I gave you… everything!” she pleaded.

“Now, Becky, that’s blackmail!” he accused. “I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear it.”

“Here’s something that you better not pretend that you didn’t hear,” she blurted out. “I’m pregnant! How do you like that?”

Brad’s body stiffened as the ‘p’ word hit the air. He quickly recovered. “What would that mean to me?” he asked.

Becky’s eyes widened. She was unsure if what she felt was anger or fear. “It’s your baby, too!” she blurted out.

“How do I know that?” he asked, keeping his cool.

“It happened in the cabin after the Homecoming game,” she recounted incredulously.

“Oh, no! We took care of that, remember?”

“No, no!” she insisted. “You didn’t pull it out in time. I remember!”

“You made it with Donny that night, too,” he pointed out.

Becky froze. What she thought had been real turned out to be a mirage; that which seemed so impossible was reality. She felt many things, but couldn’t speak.

“Becky, what’s the big deal?” Brad asked. “You know what you have to do. You’re eighteen! They have a clinic in Hornell. Get Allison to drive you.”

Brad looked down the street to see if it was worth it to try to catch up to his friends. He looked back at his former lover. “It would be better if we kept this to ourselves, don’t you think?”

***********

Nathan Smithling and his wife, Janet, were in their bedroom packing up for a weekend getaway over the long Veteran’s Day weekend. They were nearly set to go, each with a small suitcase holding enough for three nights away from home.

“You haven’t packed so much in here that I won’t be able to lift it, have you?” he joked as a way to see if she was nearly ready to go.

“No more than usual,” Janet replied, smiling a little at the question that he asked before every trip. She walked to where Nathan was standing and draped her arms around his neck. “I think that we both need this little mini-vacation. This semester has had more than its share of stress.” She kissed him lightly on the lips.

“True enough!” Nathan answered. “When we get back home we’ll have our batteries recharged. Did you pack the new negligee that I bought for you?” Then, he returned the kiss. When their lips parted, she nodded that she had.

Janet Smithling was a very attractive woman as she entered her fifty-fourth year. She was tall, like her husband. Any wrinkles that might have crept in alongside her brown eyes or her forehead only served to bestow character to her face. She wore her hair shorter than most women, in a modern style that swept it to the side. The color was quite close to her original light brown.

Janet and Nathan had been married thirty-two years—had three grown sons. Despite the travails of motherhood, she kept her slim figure. From the back, it was impossible to tell her from a woman in her twenties. She was the perfect diplomat, welcoming all of Nathan’s charges. She yielded nothing of Nathan’s secrets, so that he felt at ease in confiding to her. Janet Smithling was the ideal wife and the perfect blend of youth and age.

They piled into their car and backed down their driveway. They were on their way to Ed Cassidy’s house. “I hope Ed knows that we’re on our way over,” Nathan thought out loud. “I didn’t bother to call him as we were leaving the house.”

Ed Cassidy had been Nathan’s best friend since their days in Bates High School. He was an all-around good guy, but less lucky in marriage than Nathan. After number three, he decided that he wasn’t cut out to be a spouse. Ed was a good friend; Nathan and Janet included him in as many of their activities as they could.

“I’m really grateful to you for going along with this every three months,” Nathan continued.

“Don’t be silly!” Janet replied. “Ed’s so nice to be with. He’s almost like family. I’ve come to look forward to these excursions!”

“Whatever!” Nathan answered, “It means a lot to me, just the same.”

They pulled into Ed’s driveway. Nathan saw him waiting for them in the doorway.

“Hi, Ed!” Nathan called out. “I hope that you’re ready for a great weekend.” He marched from the car to the front door and the two men shook hands.

“I know I am!” called Jan, who was right behind Nathan. Ed held the door open as his guest stepped inside the door.

“I thought that we’d stay here tonight. I made reservations at a hotel in Niagara Falls near the Casino for two nights. We’ll get on our way tomorrow,” Ed explained.

“Sounds like a plan!” Nathan said optimistically. Janet nodded in agreement.

“Let me get the luggage!” Nathan said, and ran back out to the car and opened the trunk. When he returned to the house Janet and Ed were on the couch, locked in an embrace. Her tongue was probing inside Ed’s mouth, looking for his. Ed had his hand full of one of her breasts.

They broke off for a second. Janet turned to her husband. “Have a nice time, Nathan. Don’t forget to use your condoms.” She turned back to Ed. Nathan turned to walk out the door and be on his way.

***********

Gouged out of the earth by retreating glaciers during the Ice Ages of long ago, the Finger Lakes region is a quiet place. The summer sun bakes the steep hillsides standing as sentries over the deep, narrow lakes. In the soil left by the ancient ice rivers grow the grapes. A couple on holiday can station themselves at a quaint bed-and-breakfast-inn located in a small town and spend days traveling to the many small wineries, sampling wines, brandies and scenes of blue lakes stretched below verdant hills. That was the plan that James and Vicki made. It was a ninety minute drive from Bates to Romulus, and it was a good time for conversation.

“I was looking for you the other day,” James said to her as they turned onto the state road. “Something happened at School and I needed your advice.”

“You’ve got my attention now!” Vicki answered, surprised. “I can’t imagine what it would be.”

“One of my female students confided with me that she’s pregnant,” James revealed.

“Oh, dear!” Vicki shook her head sorrowfully. “It’s always so sad when that happens. Don’t tell me who it was. What did you need me for?”

“When she told me, I asked her if she had told her parents about it, too,” James continued. “Of course she said ‘no’ and I told her that she should.”

“Right!” Vicki agreed.

“Well, she wouldn’t,” James answered. “She wouldn’t even go to see a doctor. She wasn’t even a hundred percent sure that she was pregnant.”

“Sounds like a job for the Guidance Office,” Vicki advised. “I couldn’t have done anything about it.”

“Well…” James began to explain.

“James, what did you do?” Vicki gasped.

“I bought her one of those testing kits and made her promise that if it was positive she would go to her parents,” James answered to complete the story.

“James, that was a big mistake! You should have told her Guidance Counselor, or maybe Nathan!” Vicki admonished. “I wish that you had found me. You can’t take that on yourself.”

“It was just a testing kit,” James protested. “She wasn’t doing anything about her condition. I thought if she had the kit it would get her off the dime. Do you think that I’ll be in trouble?”

“It probably depends on the parents,” Vicki answered. “You didn’t tell her what to do with the baby or anything like that, did you?” James shook his head. He purposely didn’t mention the fact that the father was the infamous Reverend Chandler.

“You’ve done everything that you can. If she comes back to you, tell her to get to the Guidance Office, if she’s afraid of her parents,” Vicki advised.

They drove along. If it had been daylight they could have looked at the hillsides in late autumn. Instead, they had each other for conversation.

“There’s something else that I need to tell you,” James said.

“You’re full of news tonight,” Vicki replied from the passenger’s seat.

“Well…uh…I don’t know how to tell you this, Vicki,” he began.

“You slept with Abby last Friday night,” Vicki answered for him. “She told me. Did you think that she wouldn’t?”

“After what happened at your apartment between the three of us…” James began to explain, but Vicki interrupted.

“You don’t need to explain, James. I told you once that I like variety. If I do, then I would expect you to like it, too. Abby and I figured that you would probably try for her. I told her to go for it!”

“Oh!” James answered, not sure what else to say.

“We have no hold on each other, James,” she continued. “If I spend a night with you or anyone else, it’s of my own free will. The same goes for you. Besides, Abby and I like to share a lot of things.”

Vicki had set James straight on where he stood. He drove the car in silence for a while, pondering his status. Vicki broke the spell by placing her hand on his thigh and moving it up toward his crotch.

“Abby told me that you two had quite a night,” she informed him, passing her tongue between her lips. James shrugged and grinned sheepishly, which didn’t fit, for he was, by no means, embarrassed.

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

Vicki and James went to bed soon after they registered and were up bright and early on Saturday morning. They started the day with a big breakfast and then a tour of Cornell University, only about an hour’s drive from their inn. Most of their time was at the Art Museum. They skipped lunch and were on the road back to the wine region in the afternoon. They only had time to tour one winery, so they stopped at a small one not far from where they were staying. They felt hungry, but planned a late dinner, so it seemed like a good idea to take a break for a snack in the small bistro attached to the winery. They finished their tour in the tasting room and then made their way to the small restaurant.

James sat at the table while Vicki visited the Ladies’ Room. A waitress came to their table and James ordered them both a glass of chilled Chardonnay and blueberry turnovers. Their table was near the window and overlooked Cayuga Lake. James gazed absent-mindedly out at the white caps on the windy gray Fall afternoon. He spotted Vicki browsing in the Gift Shop; he watched the various customers come and go.

One of them was a man about his age, or perhaps a few years younger. He seemed to be waiting for someone. He was shorter than James, and slightly built. He had pale skin and fine features, including his blond hair that he combed up and away from his shiny forehead and atop his head. He wore a yellow cashmere sweater and white slacks.

He was browsing in the Gift Shop amid the jars of jellies and souvenir teacups. James noticed that Vicki was no longer in sight, and assumed that she was on her way back to their table. He was correct; he saw her approaching from a side door. The blond man left the Gift Shop and joined another man at the Hostess’ Desk, presumably to secure a table. His companion was much taller, but James couldn’t see his face because of a banner that strategically hung down and blocked his view.

The blond man sidled up to the taller body beside him. James watched him reach behind the taller body and the headless man gave a start.

“You, vixen!” James heard a voice that was familiar, but could not place.

James turned his attention to Vicki, who had nearly reached their table. All at once she froze. An unexplained expression of horror stuck to her face.

“Nathan!” she cried in a hush that betrayed the shriek that she just barely stifled. She buried her hands in her face. The body stepped from behind the banner. Nathan’s face betrayed confusion and fear. He looked at Vicki, and then at James. Nathan peered at him as though he was a piece of a jigsaw puzzle that belonged in a different box. The younger, blond man seemed amused by it all.

“I had no idea, Nathan,” Vicki whispered. “I’m so sorry!”

“Yes, I see,” Nathan answered Vicki in a quiet voice. He turned to James. “Well, James, now you know. You see—we all have our own secrets.”

“Only a few people know about this, James,” Vicki admonished. “It’s an ‘understanding’ that Nathan has with his wife. He does this every three or four months. His wife, Janet, gets to go where and with whom she wants to. I’ve slept with her a few times, myself.”

James nodded, unsure what to do or say. Nathan stood hovering over them, wearing an unpleasant expression. His young friend had joined them while Vicki spoke.

“James, if anyone in Bates ever found out about this it would be very bad for Nathan,” Vicki pleaded.

“No one will hear about it from me!” James vowed.

“Thanks, James,” Nathan acknowledged. His voice had a suspicious tone. He turned to his companion. “This is David,” Nathan nodded at the younger man. “He’s an Assistant Professor at the Architecture School at Cornell. I’m staying at his place for the weekend.”

“We’d invite you, but it looks like you two have plans.” the younger man said in a monotone, unconvincing voice.

“I think that we’ll be going,” Nathan announced, and the two turned and left.

“To think that I used to be afraid that Nathan would find out about the two of us!” James mused to Vicki when they were gone.

“I told you not to worry about him,” Vicki answered.

“I should have listened,” James admitted. “I promise—I’ll never tell anyone.”

“I know, James,” Vicki said, “but you have to feel for Nathan, always wondering when the wrong person will see him and worrying about being found out. In a place like Bates, he would be ruined. It’s really not fair.”

“All we can do right now is to forget that we even saw him,” James suggested.

“Right you are, Sugar!” Vicki sang out and then raised her wineglass to her lips.

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

The School Board reserved the third Wednesday night of every month for its regular meetings. They were open to the public, except the executive sessions. Sometimes the meetings were not very exciting as the Comptroller reviewed monthly vouchers and the Principals reported on things like the Homecoming Parade or the Grammar School Halloween Party. On some occasions the meetings drew much interest, such as those sessions devoted to discussing bond issues, budgets and taxes. Although not an elected member of the Board, Bob Jackson ran the meetings because he was far more skilled at it than anyone else.

On the Wednesday night following the Veteran’s Day Holiday there was nothing more exciting on the official agenda than the Principals’ Reports, yet the room was packed. The Board anticipated it because of the ‘pedophile controversy’. Jackson looked out at the crowd waiting for him to open the meeting with the Pledge to the Flag. He sized up the players on the field.

Leading off, on First Base was the Teachers’ Union Business Manager, Ed Cassidy. He was guarding the line against extra-base hits by the opposition. Playing Second and Short were the Principals of the four levels of schools of the District, prepared to field stinging, hot shots up the middle. The outfield was populated by a bevy of faceless teachers and townspeople positioned to field fly balls and throw them back to the infield, lest they be forgotten. At Third Base were the members of the School Board. It was the position with the most unpredictability, capable of spectacular, unbelievably good plays, and then unexplainable errors.

The catcher was Jackson, himself, who caught the pitches and tried to move the fielders to the proper spot on the field. There were times when he would direct the Pitcher as to what to throw. On those occasions everything would go so smoothly. This night was not going to be one of those smooth ones.

Pitching, of course, was the Reverend Chandler. He sat at the end of the first row, facing the Board. He had two pitches in his repertoire: a blazing hot fastball that he threw dangerously close to the batter; and an inscrutable curve that he would hurl when least expected. Jackson gazed out over the playing field with a feeling of dread, recalling happier days when he actually enjoyed baseball.

The umpire was in attendance, too, in the person of Ms. Peggy Hardaway, a reporter for The Valley Sentinel.

The assemblage seated themselves after the pledge to the Flag. Jackson saw them fidgeting and mumbling. He pounded his gavel for attention.

“I see that we have a large turnout tonight,” he remarked with dry coyness. “I propose that we dispense with the reading of the Minutes and Old Business. There’s nothing on the Agenda to create such a large turnout, so I would guess that that there’s something else that you folks want to talk about.”

Jackson’s words brought about a crescendo in the mumbling. “We’ll recognize anyone who wants to speak. Just get in a line behind the microphone,” he called out to the throng. “State your name and address and then your comment or question.” An attendant tapped on the device to test it and it gave out a gentle ‘thump-thump’. It was on a stand, facing the Board, just a few feet from where Ethan sat.

Bob Jackson thought that Ethan would take the stage from the start, but he was wrong about that. The shepherd sent his flock forward to get things started. An elderly woman approached. She glared at the offending electronic device. The attendant lowered it to her level.

“Mavis Holcomb, 283 Washington Street,” she enunciated. She lowered her eyes to a three by five card from which she read her statement. “Pee-doe-files are a danger to our children. We should get all of them out of our schools.” She about-faced and marched back to her seat.

“Randall Baker, 62 Jefferson St.,” the next speaker declared. “My wife and I have three children in Bates Schools. We deserve assurance from the Board that our children are not in danger from such persons. Nothing could be more important!”

There were at least twenty speakers, each proclaiming the same message, with a little different slant. The final speaker was a pretty young woman, small and petite. She looked like she belonged in a TV ad for cookies or chocolate milk. “Virginia Mills,” she squeaked.

Bob Jackson interrupted. “Ma’am,” he said, “you’ll have to speak up. Not everyone can hear you.”

The little woman approached the microphone and cleared her throat. “Virginia Mills,” she repeated in a clear, but demure voice. “40 Maple Lane.” She paused until the buzzing of the audience ceased. “We want the School Board to give us the name of the pedophile. We want the name of the man that you’re hiding—we want it now!” her voice rang out loud and clear.

The crowd, except for the teachers in the back of the room who remained silent, started a chant: “We want to know!” They sang it out over and over again. Jackson pounded the gavel, but the crowd wouldn’t stop. Reverend Chandler stood and raised his arms, and the chanting ceased.

He drew a breath to speak, needing no help from the microphone. “You see, the people have spoken!” He lowered his arms and the chant began anew. The members of the School Board were the targets and it alarmed a few of them.

Jackson worked the gavel until Ethan raised his arms again and the room was finally quiet. “Does any member of the Board wish to say anything? One member, Harriet Jones, raised her hand.

“I don’t know why we can’t give them the name,” she uttered. Jackson looked at her in shock as her statement inflamed the crowd anew.

“I see Ed Cassidy in the room,” Jackson called on his last resort. “Ed, what would be the Teachers’ Union’s stand on this?” Bob asked.

The room hushed. The crowd knew that support from the Teachers’ Union would turn the tide. Ed rose slowly. He cleared his throat and spoke in his best bureaucratese. “The contract clearly states,” he began, “that Personnel Files are to remain sealed from the public, except with the written, notarized consent of the party in question, or by enforceable court order,” he recited, and sat back down.

The pronouncement brought a smile of relief to Jackson’s face and renewed anger from the crowd.

“Well, that ties our hands!” Bob said, barely containing his glee.

Ethan rose again. “This is collusion!” he shouted.

“You seem to know so much, Reverend Chandler,” Jackson retorted. “Why don’t you just tell us, yourself?”

“You’re trying to subjugate the Church!” Ethan fought back. “We believe in the separation of Church and State!” he shouted. The crowd cheered him on.

“That’s silly!” Jackson declared. He stood and pointed at his opponent. “I’m calling your bluff—tell us what you know.”

“I will not!” Ethan insisted and lifted his head indignantly to show his resolve.

Silence spilled over the room and covered it with a pall as the two men stood and glared at each other, neither conceding; neither able to move forward. Hate poured from their eyes, fire from their nostrils. Their chests were heaving, as though preparing for battle. Every person fixed their attention to the two combatants. There was a pregnant silence as they all waited for the next move.

“It’s James O’Toole!” a loud, anonymous voice called from the teachers’ group in the back of the room. In fact, it was Doris, James’ colleague, but no one was sure who said it.

Jackson slumped back into his chair; his efforts wasted. He looked at Ed Cassidy and shook his head.

Ethan turned to face his followers. “James O’Toole—James O’Toole!” they chanted.

“We’ve done it! We’ve done it!” Ethan cried, raising his fists into the air.

An anonymous man could be heard shouting over the din, “Who is James O’Toole?”

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TO BE CONTINUED