The Blameless Bystander

By Autumn Writer

Chapter 10 — Mid-November Vignettes

“No, I was not defrocked,” James answered in a strong voice into the microphone of the tape recorder. He had already recited a short bio and counted off his degrees and teaching experience.

It was Thursday afternoon. James’ identity as Reverend Chandler’s target was public knowledge, thanks to Doris’ shouting it out during the previous evening’s School Board Meeting. The unauthorized revelation changed all the rules of the game. Peggy Hardaway, inspired to improve her prior week’s lackluster performance, took full advantage of the opening.

She called James at the school early in the morning and requested an interview. Roger Blair called Bob Jackson to smooth the way. So, during his free period James found himself speaking into Peggy’s microphone with a watchful Ed Cassidy sitting by his side as unofficial witness.

“Well, are you still a priest, then?” the reporter followed up.

“No,” James prepared to explain. “I requested a release from my vows and Holy Orders. It’s like resigning from a job, except for me it had many spiritual implications.”

“Care to elaborate?” she asked, attempting to pour some concrete into the mold.

“When a priest has doubts about his faith, he can’t lead others to it unless he clears up his doubts. I couldn’t, so I quit instead of pretending.” James paused after the answer, wondering if he said enough. He glanced at the young reporter who seemed to wear an unsatisfied look on her face. “To go into it further,” James explained, “would be rather personal and not very interesting to your readers.” Ed nodded approvingly. The reporter wanted more but was sure that she had all that was available.

“What has been your experience with young children?” she asked.

“None,” James answered. “I’ve only ever taught at the high school level. That was even true during my missionary days in Guatemala.” Peggy raised an eyebrow, signaling a follow up question, so James elaborated. “It was for two years when I was in my twenties—when I was first ordained.”

“Wow!” Ed exclaimed. “I didn’t know that.”

“Have you ever been involved in any form of child molestation?” she asked.

James was relieved; she had finally arrived at the crux of the interview.

“No!” he replied emphatically.

“Ever been suspected of it? Sex with an underage person?” she probed.

“Absolutely not!” James asserted. “…to both questions.”

“Ever cover up for someone that did?” she dug deeper.

“’No’ to that question, too!”

“Then, Mr. O’Toole, why does Reverend Chandler say that you are guilty?” she asked pointedly.

“I don’t know the answer to that,” James admitted.

“Reverend Chandler has never given any evidence that anyone in our schools is guilty,” Ed Cassidy broke his silence before James could speak. “He’s only provided innuendo. The Union’s position is ‘let’s see some facts!’.”

“Let’s discuss your teaching techniques, Mr. O’Toole,” Ms. Hardaway expanded the scope. Mr. Jackson said that you’ve been very successful while others haven’t.”

“Why don’t you save that question for the follow-up interview?” Ed suggested.

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

Peggy Hardaway left for Hornell and Nathan and Ed were in Bob Jackson’s office talking about James’ interview.

“I would say that he did pretty well,” Ed told the others. “Right to the point—nothing to hide. It all worked out. We even left some cookies in the jar for a follow-up.”

“Let’s hope that she writes it that way,” Jackson cautioned. “There’s always something lost between the spoken word and the ink on the page.”

“Who let out the name last night?” Nathan asked. “I know that it was from the back of the room, but my back was to the direction it came from. The voice sounded familiar, but there was a lot of noise, so I couldn’t quite make it out.”

“I didn’t see who it was either,” Jackson admitted.

“Same with me,” offered Ed, “but Doris gets my vote if I had to point a finger.”

“That makes sense to me,” Nathan agreed. “She is nasty enough to do it, and has the most to gain.”

“What do you mean by ‘most to gain’?” Jackson asked.

“She wants the Department Chair and she has to know that James is most qualified. She wouldn’t mind if he was out of her way,” Nathan explained.

“Make sure that you don’t give it to her,” Jackson ordered.

“I’ll keep chairing it myself before she would ever get it,” Nathan agreed. “She just wants it for the money and she’s against working to bring the department up to standard.”

At that point James knocked and stepped into the office. Nathan introduced him to Bob Jackson.

“Ed says that the interview with Peggy Hardaway went well,” he said. “This has been a tough time for you—for all of us.”

James nodded.

“Of course, you heard that your name was revealed at the School Board meeting last night,” Bob continued.

“Oh, yes!” James confirmed. “Most of the teachers are avoiding me. They gossip about me when they think that I can’t see them. The students in my class are having a hard time concentrating.”

“Don’t be surprised if a few parents request transfers out of your class,” Nathan cautioned.

“One important thing that no one said last night,” Ed reminded everyone, “is that all the speculation about James is false. All anyone was worried about was ‘who knows what’; and ‘what is his name’. We’ve got to back this guy up.”

“I couldn’t deny anything when the name wasn’t on the table.” Bob explained. “I was hoping that Chandler would come out with, but he got let off the hook. After the name came out it was such a mess that no one could say anything. We’ve got to work together to get through this. For one thing, I want all Press contacts cleared by me.”

“Right—good idea!” Nathan agreed.

“I can’t do that,” Ed protested. “I can’t give the impression that I’m coordinating with you. The Union is supposed to be independent.”

“Good point!” Jackson allowed. “Nathan and James coordinate through me. Ed, keep me posted as well as you can.” They all nodded.

“I want to take a polygraph test,” James insisted.

“That might happen,” Jackson replied. “Timing is everything. We’ll let Chandler insist that you do, and then he’ll be banking everything on it. Everyone will be watching. You’ll pass and this whole thing will die the death that it deserves.” Bob snapped his fingers to make the point. “If you do it now, nobody will be paying any attention and they’ll think that it’s a put-up job.”

“Do you really think that you can get him to do that?” Nathan asked.

“Chandler’s impulsive, but he’s got Jarrod Morris whispering in his ear,” Ed pointed out. “And Jarrod is far from impulsive.”

“Wouldn’t you want me take a private one first to make sure that I’m being honest?” James asked.

“We believe you, James,” Nathan assured.

“Wait, Nathan,” Jackson cautioned, “James might have a good idea.” He saw James expression as he contradicted Nathan’s vote of confidence. “Just to make sure the machine is calibrated and everything—we’ll let you know” he added, his embarrassment showing.

“The Union will have something to say if any polygraphing takes place,” Ed cautioned.

“Okay, Okay! We’ll get into details later,” Jackson ordered. “Now, let’s discuss the Mayor’s interview in this week’s Sentinel.” He threw the paper on his desk, folded to Jarrod Morris’ photo.

“That’s the Mayor?” James asked as he saw the picture.

“Why, what of it?” Nathan questioned.

“It’s just that I saw him coming out of Tracey Jacobs’ house early one morning.”

“That can’t be!” said Jackson. “Morris lives way over on Elm.”

“Think a little harder, Bob,” Ed suggested, his tone laced with sarcasm to make his point.

“Oh, I see!” Jackson replied with a sheepish grin. He quickly recovered. “That’s beside the point. What do make of this interview?”

“It’s obvious that he’s straddling the fence,” Nathan answered.

“Any chance that he’ll land on our side?” Jackson asked.

Ed shook his head. “He’s a member of Ethan’s church and on their Board. He can’t turn on them. He’d be turning on himself.”

“Besides, Jarrod always straddles, no matter what,” Nathan added. “And no one has ever knocked him off his straddle.”

“From this interview—and knowing Jarrod a little bit—I’m not sure that he’s completely confident of Chandler,” Bob speculated.

“Knowing Jarrod, there’s some self-interest there,” Ed advised. “He usually likes to push the buttons.”

“It would be nice if we could find out what he’s up too,” Jackson said. “He could be the guy to hold Chandler back. On the other hand, he might be egging him on.”

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

“We could have used you last night, Jarrod. It was rough! Bob Jackson was looking for a showdown.”

“Ethan, if I was there I would have had to say something, and that would spoil all our groundwork,” Jarrod answered. “Anyway, one way or another we’ve got our name.”

“We’ve got to find out more about him,” Ethan ventured.

“No, no, no!” Jarrod corrected. “Let any information come from them. They’ll be forced to prove it. They’ll be on the defensive on a permanent basis.”

“But, if we find out that he’s a pedophile…” Ethan started to make a point, but Jarrod interrupted.

“Ethan, you don’t really think he truly is a child molester, do you?”

“Well, of course, Jarrod, don’t you?”

“I have no reason to think so, Ethan,” Jarrod countered. “All you have is that he’s a former priest. What of it?”

“But you’ve supported me all though this,” Ethan exclaimed.

“We had to hold things together after you started it, Ethan. There’s a side benefit to all this that you’ve forgotten. What’s crucial is the size of the Sunday collections!”

“Well, Jarrod, I do believe it,” Ethan insisted.

“Believe what you want to. Just don’t give Jackson anything that he can definitively refute. Once he does, it’s the beginning of the end,” Jarrod commanded. “Play it cool and we’ll be in the driver’s seat! They’ll never be able to disprove a negative.”

“Where will it all end?” Ethan asked.

“At the end of the school year O’Toole will quit. He’ll be fed up. He’ll get a job somewhere else and move out of town—not much skin off his nose. We’ll never hear from him again. Everyone in town will forget the whole thing, or be grateful to us for getting rid of him,” Jarrod prophesied. “Either way, we win.”

As he was becoming more prone to do, Ethan closed his eyes and turned his head away. “As you shall know the truth, the truth will set you free,” he intoned.

“What’s that, Ethan,” Jarrod asked.

Ethan turned his face toward his friend. He opened his eyes, but it wasn’t certain that he was looking at Jarrod, or even saw him. “Before Abraham was, I am,” he annunciated clearly. Ethan’s face was pale and expressionless, his eyes wide open and bloodshot. He had spoken as though his words were not intended for Jarrod’s ears, but for a Being, perhaps himself, existing in another dimension.

“Ethan, wake up!” Jarrod yelled to get his attention. Ethan gave a small start. Jarrod could see his eyes focusing on him once again. Ethan did a slight double take on Jarrod, as if he was surprised to see him sitting in his study.

“Are you alright, Ethan?” Jarrod asked in a loud voice. “You look like you don’t feel very well.”

“So many worries!” Ethan mumbled in a tired voice. “Pedophiles, the Church, my daughter.”

“What’s wrong with Becky?” Jarrod asked.

“Judith and I can no longer reason with her,” Ethan answered. “She’s just an innocent child, but so avoids our protection.”

“I know what you mean,” Jarrod agreed. “Brad’s the same way. I sent him up to my hunting cabin a few weeks ago to clean it up. It’s obvious they had one big party up there.”

“Party?” Ethan asked, still appearing dazed.

“I’ll confide to you as a friend and a man of the cloth, Ethan. I found a spent condom out back, and I think that I smelled traces of marijuana.”

“Condom?” Ethan asked in the dazed monotone.

“Well, I spent a few myself when I was his age,” Jarrod confessed with a chuckle and some pride. “Brad went up there after the Homecoming Game.”

“Becky went to the Cheerleaders’ Sleepover!” said a stern-faced Judith who had slipped into the study at some point in the conversation. Ethan nodded, remembering that his daughter had absented herself from Sunday Service the next day.

‘Cheerleaders’ Sleepover’ sounded a bit odd to Jarrod, but he wasn’t eager to parse facts with Judith. He thought that he’d better change the subject. Before he could do so, Judith spoke again.

“It’s hard these days to keep children out of trouble,” she spoke, more an announcement than an invitation to the men to engage her. “Has Brad been ‘seeing’ anyone, in particular?” she asked.

“Brad? No, not him,” Jarrod said in a cautious tone. “He’s too busy with football—and studies of course!”

“Then he spent a condom at your cabin after the Homecoming Game with a casual acquaintance?” Judith accused.

“I didn’t say that!” Jarrod squirmed.

Judith gave a condescending nod and walked out of the room.

“I didn’t come here to go into that, anyway,” Jarrod quickly changed the subject as Judith left. “It’s time for the monthly review of the finances,” Jarrod announced. “The by-laws say that another board member has to perform a review each month with the Treasurer. I was doing it with Howard Jones, but he’s visiting his brother in North Carolina.

Ethan agreed, and they bent over the ledgers. Ethan pointed out deposits and vouchers and they reviewed the bank reconciliation. Ethan did it because he had to, but it was apparent that he wished the task was over. With the collections picking up, he had less to worry about in that regard.

“What’s this ‘Bank Transfer’ that you have recorded here?” Ethan asked as they neared the end.

“You remember that!” Jarrod exclaimed. “You know—it’s the ‘Insurance Funding Account’,” Jarrod answered. Ethan shrugged.

“We set it up last year to make sure that the policies didn’t lapse. Each week I transfer in a certain amount and pay the various policies’ premiums with the funds. It’s like a savings account with a special purpose.”

“So it has its own checkbook?” Ethan asked.

“Right!” Jarrod answered. Ethan kept looking at Jarrod in a quizzical way. “I didn’t think that you’d be interested in it, Ethan. I can go back to my office and pick it up if you like.”

“No, that’s alright,” Ethan answered, satisfied by the offer. “We’ll catch up with it next time.” Jarrod smiled and nodded.

“Whatever you say, Ethan!”

Jarrod started packing up his papers and ledger books. “One more thing, Ethan. Since O’Toole’s name is out, you better call the school and tell them that you want Becky out of his class. If you believe that he’s a pedophile and leave your kid in his classroom, it kind of spoils the credibility.”

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

Tracey Jacobs was driving back to Bates on the Interstate in the early evening. She glanced over to the passenger’s seat at her step-brother, Raymond. He had not stopped talking since she had picked him up after his visit to Pender Industries in Rochester. In the dark he couldn’t see the smile creeping over her lips. As she listened it reminded her of a child convinced that Santa’s reindeers’ hooves had been clattering on the roof.

“I’m more confused than before I started!” the excited lad exclaimed. “Mr. Kendig told me a lot about all kinds of engineering. He’s a Mechanical Engineer. He went to Cornell.”

Matt Kendig was an on old friend of James’. He met him when he taught his son some years ago. Matt was the Vice President of Engineering at Pender. Every so often James took promising students to talk to him about their careers. James asked him to host Raymond for such a visit and when he recited Raymond’s story, Matt jumped at the chance.

“You sound happy for someone who’s confused,” Tracey observed.

Raymond ignored his sister’s point. “I got to see the CAD Room. They let me go right in! I’ve never seen anything like it. After that, we went on a tour of the plant. They showed me how the designs become machines.”

Of course, James would have enjoyed taking Raymond himself, and visiting with his old friend. With the accusation standing against him, a trip to Rochester with a young male was out of the question. He persuaded Tracey to take the day off and drive Raymond, instead. Raymond’s mother had her hands full with Raymond’s brothers and sisters. Tracey dropped him at Pender’s front door and then went shopping at a local mall. It had taken the whole day and they were on their way home.

“What kind of engineering do you think you would like to study?” Tracey asked.

“That’s why I’m confused,” Raymond answered. “There are some kinds that I never thought of, like Metallurgy; there’s Chemical Engineering and Ceramic Engineering, too.”

“I’ve never heard of a lot of those things,” Tracey admitted. “What’s ‘Ceramic Engineering’? It sounds like clay pots and vases.”

“Me, neither, until today,” Raymond answered. “It’s not pottery. It could be fiber optics, or heat shields for space ships, or many other things. If I want to study it, I’ll have to apply to Alfred University. I think I might, because I could work at the Glass Works in Corning and then I wouldn’t have to move away. I could help Ma out.”

“Oh, Raymond, don’t get trapped!” Tracey warned. “This town will swallow you up. You’ll give all you have and get nothing back. One day, you’ll look around and see that you’re drained, with nothing left to give. You’ll regret all the things that you never did, places you never went, people you never met. Don’t kill your dreams before they have a chance to live. Ask your mother—she’ll say the same thing.”

“I don’t get it Tracey,” his youthful exuberance temporarily curtailed.

“Raymond, it’s just that you have so much potential. Whatever happens, do it because it’s what you want, not where you want.”

“Is that what happened to you, Tracey?” It may have been a tactless question, but it was sincere and born of Raymond’s youth.

In the darkness Raymond couldn’t see the tears welling in his older sister’s eyes. “They took you to lunch and everything?” she asked, groping for a change of subject.

“Yes,” Raymond answered. “Mr. Kendig sent me with three of the younger engineers in his department so I could ask them what it’s like. They were good guys. They said that engineering school is tough—a lot of studying. Then I told them where I had offers and they argued about which place is best.”

“Who won?” Tracey asked, chuckling.

“No one,” Raymond replied, laughing along with her. The only thing that they agreed on is that they all have terrible football teams. I don’t think that Carnegie-Mellon has one at all.”

“Do you have to decide what to study right away?” Tracey asked.

“For Ceramic and Chemical I would have to decide right away. For others, I would study for two years first, and then choose.”

“You have a lot to think about,” Tracey said. “You should tell Mr. Thompson about your trip.”

“Mr. O’Toole, too,” Raymond insisted.

“Of course!” Tracey acknowledged. “You owe him a lot! Not many teachers would take this extra trouble for you.”

“Mr. Kendig said that if I stick with Mr. O’Toole I would have plenty of math under my belt when I go away next year. He said that Mr. O’Toole is better in math than any of the engineers in his department. No offense, Tracey, but I wish that he could have taken me,” Raymond confided. “Why are they saying those things about him?”

“I don’t know,” Tracey shook her head sadly. “I don’t believe it. I’ve watched him working with you and around school. I would need a lot more proof to believe it, and I haven’t heard any.”

“Some kids do, others don’t. Most think that he’s going to be fired,” Raymond said.

“I sure hope not!” Tracey said.

“Ma says that they’re doing this to him because they want to keep outsiders from having a chance.”

“Your mother is smarter than most people realize.”

“Ma is thinking about inviting him for Thanksgiving,” Raymond announced. “She’s not sure because she says that the trailer is run down and she doesn’t want to be embarrassed.”

“I think that she should,” Tracey advised, “if she wants to.”

“Do you think that he’ll come if she asks him?” Raymond’s enthusiasm was returning.

“Maybe,” Tracey mused. “Mr. O’Toole is full of surprises.”

*********

“He certainly answered all of your questions, didn’t he? It’s a lot better interview than you brought back from Jarrod Morris’ office,” Roger Blair commented as the interview tape completed. “I wish that you could have done it without Ed Cassidy there.”

“He said that it’s union policy for him to sit in,” the young reporter told him.

“I don’t believe that!” Roger exclaimed.

“He didn’t interrupt or contradict O’Toole until the end. I don’t think that his answers would have been any different if he had been one-on-one with me.”

“Let’s test him,” Roger commanded. “Call him in a couple of days and tell him that you need a photo for the story. If he has a problem with his past he won’t want any photos of himself showing up in the paper. There would be a big risk that they would be seen on the internet by one of his victims—if there are any.”

“I can do that,” Peggy replied. “I really think that he’s telling the truth.”

“Maybe so, but until I’m sure it’s going to be strictly arm’s length,” Roger insisted.

“And what will you do if you do decide to believe him?” Peggy asked.

“That’ll depend on what’s going on out in the field,” he answered. “The whole thing might die away as fast as it got going. I’m sure that most readers had a major yawn when they read Jarrod’s interview today.”

The young reporter blushed. She wrote the article and was embarrassed because she knew that Roger was correct.

“That’s okay!” Roger explained. “I wanted people to see that Jarrod was just giving the runaround when we were trying to get him to talk about something very important.”

“So you still think that the Mayor is at the bottom of this?” she wondered out loud.

“I’ve got that feeling in my bunions,” he answered. “It’s either Jarrod or my gout acting up.”

“If O’Toole turns out okay, then we have to look at Reverend Chandler,” Peggy insisted. “I just don’t like him.”

“Look at him—sure. I dislike him, too but we’ll need a lot more than dislike to go after him. For now, we’ll just let the facts speak,” Roger warned.

“I asked him for an interview, but he refused,” she reminded her boss.

Peggy started packing up her recorder. It was getting a real workout lately.

“Write your story,” Roger instructed before she left is office. “Be careful to give equal space to Jarrod’s and O’Toole’s interviews.”

Peggy had packed up. She nodded that she understood as she left the office.

“Even the same size picture!” he shouted to her out in the copy room.

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

When James saw his picture that accompanied Peggy Hardaway’s article in the Sentinel he wasn’t very impressed. He rubbed the back of his head and realized that he was truly shaggy, just as he looked in the picture.

“Even I’ve heard of ‘Photoshop’,” he complained to himself out loud, but deep down he realized that his morning self-trims weren’t doing the job.

He knew that Harvey English’s Barber Shop was nearby and the only one in town. Normally on Thursday he would be busy tutoring after school, but Becky Chandler had dropped him at her father’s insistence. So, on a Thursday afternoon in November James found himself pulling into a parking space in front of Harvey’s.

“Hi, have a seat, Mister!” Harvey called to him as James walked in the door. Harvey didn’t look up, preferring to concentrate on getting the back of Charlie Hancock just right. “You’re next—don’t mind these other guys—they’re all done and just hangin’ around.”

Several men adorned the chairs in Harvey’s shop. James looked around and realized that he didn’t recognize any of them. He nodded politely and they nodded back. The subject of the day was deer hunting. They all agreed that it was a lot easier to take one today than years ago, what with the deer coming in close to feed on the farmers’ corn stalks, and since more city folks were coming down to hunt it was a lot more dangerous out in the woods than it used to be, and remember when…

Since they all agreed on everything it was hard to keep much of a conversation going, and it died of natural causes. Two of the men sat silent in the chairs. Brice Barlow picked up the newspaper and his face disappeared behind it. James sat waiting patiently.

Barlow slowly lowered the paper and peered at James for a few seconds, then slowly raised it back up again. He lowered it again, and after another long look folded the paper and walked to Harvey, still working on Charlie Hancock.

“It’s him, Harv,” he quietly spoke. “It’s him; look—here’s his picture.”

“What are you talking about, Brice,” asked Harvey, a little annoyed. He set his scissors on the counter and looked at the picture, then read a little bit. Then he looked at James and read a little bit more.

James figured out what was happening. They were giving him the same look; the same quiet words passed among them; the same treatment as he had received from his fellow teachers at school since his name had been revealed at the School Board meeting. He braced himself. He would rather get up and leave, but knew that it would be the wrong move. Acting guilty would make people sure that he was guilty. Being treated as if he was guilty was such a burden. It was tiring him out—wearing him down. He would have never thought that it would drain him. A few moths before, he might not have cared.

“Are you really this fella?” Harvey asked.

“My name is James O’Toole, if that’s what you’re asking,” James answered. “My picture was in the paper today, so, chances are that the answer is ‘yes’.”

The shop fell silent until Brice Barlow scratched his head and whispered, “Well, I’ll be…”

The two silent chair-men edged their way to the door and one of them slipped his hand around the doorknob. “See you next time, Harv,” one of them called out as they slipped out the door.

“Well, what are doing here?” Harvey asked in a challenging tone.

“I came in to get a haircut,” James answered.

Harvey’s face bore a confused look. “Why here?” he asked.

“I need a haircut. You’re the only barber shop in town.”

“Well, you’re not getting a haircut in this shop!” Harvey declared. “Not today—not in a million years.”

“Didn’t you read the article?” James asked. “It’s there in black and white. I’ve done nothing of what I’ve been accused of. Don’t I get a fair shake?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mister, but I know you’re trying to trick me. I don’t want you in my shop. I think that you better leave,” Harvey answered.

“Don’t you want to hear the facts?” James asked.

“Don’t tell me about facts!” Harvey shouted. “We have Ethan Chandler’s word on it—it’s all the facts that we need. Do you think that we’d take the word of a stranger over what our pastor told us in our own church?”

“I’ll leave,” James said, “but I’m telling you that I have no blame in this. Someone made it up. I’m just a bystander in the wrong place and wrong time.”

“You’re in the wrong place, alright,” Harvey retorted, becoming angry. “This man, here, is a Town Police Officer. He’ll get you out of my place if you don’t leave on your own.”

“He’s right,” Charlie said matter-of-factly. “He can tell you to stay out of his place if he wants to.”

“On the other hand,” Brice Barlow added, “The Civil rights Law says…”

“I just came in to get a haircut,” James interrupted.

“Your kind makes us sick!” Harvey panted.

“Really, O’Toole,” Barlow reasoned, “after all that’s been said just now, do you really want to stay and get a haircut?”

The answer, of course was ‘no’, but James wouldn’t give the assemblage the satisfaction of hearing his answer. He left without saying more. He decided to drive to Corning on Saturday afternoon and find a barber shop there.

**********

It was Saturday morning and James sat in a barber’s chair in Corning as the clippers gradually corrected his shaggy appearance. The barber didn’t turn out to be a conversation-style barber, the kind that engages customers in conversation about any subject, from the latest football scores to free advice on marital problems. It was just as well, because James’ life was getting more complicated by the day and he had a lot to think about.

He was tired of thinking about Reverend Chandler and the pedophilia charges against him. They weren’t really charges, he reminded himself, not even allegations, but rumors with no base. It was pointless to turn it over in his mind yet again. The only remaining questions were ‘why’ and ‘how much longer’, and he knew he had no chance to answer either question. It would better to turn his energy to other matters.

‘Other matters’ meant understanding his dual, sometimes cross-connected relationships with Vicki and Abby. Several days beforehand he spent the night with Abby and enjoyed her many charms. Tonight it was to be with Vicki. In fact, the two had driven together to Corning. They split up temporarily; Vicki to go shopping, James for a haircut. They made plans to rendezvous later for an early supper at a casual restaurant. After that, it would be back to Vicki’s apartment for the night and more of her lessons in one-on-one.

He realized that his was a situation for which most men would be supremely grateful. Neither woman was jealous of the other, actually cooperated in the sharing. There was no one with pretenses or higher designs on the relationship. It was understood that sex was always on the agenda. Each woman brought her own style to their bed. James’ greatest question was why he was questioning anything at all. Still, aware of his inexperience in such matters, he was careful.

Abby was so hot in the performance of sex. James thoroughly enjoyed having her tiny body and driving her to climax. They never spoke about anything important, although she was pleasant to be with. It was something that they did when Bubba was away. There would never be a chance for any activity outside the safely hidden confines of Abby’s house. The sex was great, but outside of it, there was little to share.

Although Abby was closer to James’ age, he enjoyed being with Vicki more. Vicki was two women. There was the ‘bedroom Vicki’, his first, his teacher and sexual mentor. At each session it seemed that Vicki would teach him something new. She even told him of ways to please Abby that he would never have come up with on his own.

There was also the other Vicki, who James considered a friend, who was the ideal companion at dinner or on a trip through the wine country. She was always interesting, never dishonest. She had warned James about love, but there were times that he felt that she cared for him. He had to admit that he felt something for her and he took a risk by ignoring her warning. Still, there was a gap, something missing that James hoped he could correct. It was hard to explain what more he wanted from her; surrender of reserve, lovemaking without holding back, confession of feelings. He skimmed the edges of his dilemma, missing the center of his target, but ready to try to fathom the depths again.

So, it was eight in the evening as the pair unlocked the door to Vicki’s apartment. There was little doubt about James spending the night in her bed, so they proceeded immediately to the bedroom after taking off their outdoor clothing.

Vicki lit the customary candles on her dresser. James noticed that she had refreshed the spent candlesticks, showing that she had planned the evening the same as he had. She turned to unbutton his shirt, but James gently took hold of her hands and pulled them to her sides.

“Let me this time,” he whispered. He took the top button of her blouse in his fingers and slowly undid it.

“Well, alright, James,” Vicki conceded. James noted the slight discomfort in her voice at the change of routine. He refused to allow it to bother him, with the intent of the pupil to impress the skeptical teacher.

After releasing the buttons one-by-one he slid the blouse from her shoulders. Her white bra pushed her breasts out at him. James thought for a second and decided to pass it up for the moment. He unbuttoned her skirt and slid the zipper down. It fell to her feet.

He knelt on the floor in front of her, inches from her shiny, white slip. She had already kicked off her shoes. Vicki stepped out of her skirt and James tossed it aside. He glanced up at her looking down at him with an expression that told him that she was wondering why she was still wearing her bra.

James reached under Vicki’s slip, placing a palm softly on each knee. He allowed his hands to slowly slide up each thigh, feeling the flesh and form, higher and higher, both hands in unison. She spread her feet apart just slightly more as he did so, telling James that he was pleasing her. His hands finally reached the tops of her legs, but he didn’t stop. He pushed his hands onward; he felt them pass over her hipbones. When he reached the waist band of her pantyhose he stopped and hooked his fingers under the elastic. He pulled them down as he began the slow journey to her feet. As he passed her silk panties he paused for a second, to let her wonder if he would take them on the journey, too, but he passed them by and inched the hose ever slowly downward until they lay around her ankles. He nudged a foot, and then the other, removing the nylon from her feet.

With the pantyhose removed, James repeated the procedure with Vicki’s panties. As he did, he thought that he heard her let out a little gasp. So sensing her anticipation, he was careful to avoid touching her skin at all as he slid the panties down her legs, allowing anticipation to do its work. He remained on his knees for a few moments to let her wonder what he would do next.

James stood and Vicki reached for the buttons on his shirt. “I thought that you were going to let me do this,” he admonished. He reached behind her, unclasping her bra. He brought it forward with care, allowing the breasts to escape the cups without pinching or bouncing them. James remained still, watching the nipples harden and Vicki’s breathing deepen. He did so as an act in itself to admire the breasts, and the beauty that the held. He could see that Vicki expected him to touch them, or hold them, or rub his thumbs across the tender buds, but he didn’t. He chose, instead, to allow her to think about what he might do, because it allowed her to experience all those possibilities in her mind’s eye.

James returned to his knees at Vicki’s feet. James put his hands once again on Vicki’s thighs. Her little gasp let him know that she expected them to creep upward. James had other plans.

He bent his head low, close to the floor, below the hemline of the slip. He grasped her legs to hold her still and slipped his head under the undergarment. He inserted his face between her thighs and felt her hands on his head, trying to control his movements, but she couldn’t through the slippery fabric. He spread her legs apart more with his hands and was glad when she willingly complied. Vicki’s scent under the little tent was intoxicating. He pushed his way higher up. She spread her legs even more—this time on her own. In the darkness his face encountered her moistened flesh and wispy pubic hair. He assaulted her slit with his tongue, prying it between the labia. It didn’t go in all at once, and he pressed his mouth forward more and more. He finally felt her jump a little and a hardened bulb where he expected to find it—where it had been many times before.

James lashed it with his tongue and suckled it with his lips. He was usually gentle when he performed such acts, but that time was different. He pressed ever harder, pursuing her ecstasy that seemed to hiding just around the corner. He felt her press back and smiled inside with the knowledge that she was taking pleasure from him.

“That’s so good, James,” she gasped, as she bucked her hips against his tongue. “I think it’s enough now. “Let’s take your clothes off and get on the bed.”

“Not yet!” he called back as he paused his oral quest and took a breath of air. He pressed back even harder, smelling and tasting her, gripping her buttocks and pressing her into his face. After a few more minutes—when he was convinced that he had tasted every bit of her—he stopped, pulled her final remaining garment from her waist onto the floor and stood.

“James, you surprised me. I felt so good,” she panted in praise of his efforts. Vicki reached again for his shirt buttons, but he stopped her.

“Let me see you lying on the bed,” he ordered. Vicki pulled down the covers and climbed into the center in a half-sitting position. “Lie on your back and spread your legs so that I can see you waiting for me.” Vicki obeyed. She bent her knees as she spread her legs to form the cradle that he was to lie in when he came to her. She exposed her sex, wet from her fluids and his, unabashedly to him.

James quickly peeled off his clothes as she watched him. When he was nude, except his under shorts he paused. Vicki brought her hands to her center and started working herself.

“Take it off!” she pleaded. James slowly lowered his shorts down and let them fall to his feet. He stroked a few times for her to watch, and then climbed onto the bed. Vicki stretched out her hands, moistened with herself to welcome him. James felt her slick fingers grasp him around her shoulders. He positioned himself in her cradle and entered her all the way.

Vicki moaned in pleasure. “After all you did, you deserve something special,” she whispered to him as he let his penis rest inside her. “Hold still and let me take over.”

“Next time,” he answered back in a clear voice. “I want to do this.”

James withdrew almost all the way out and then thrust back in. It wasn’t hard or rough, but strong and decisive. He made love to her with his whole body, not just his penis. He felt all of her; breasts pressing up into his chest; arms and legs wrapped around him; her face alongside his perspiring from heat and exertion. He repeated over again, many times. Vicki labored under him to keep pace. A few times she could not, but she kept trying.

He felt his orgasm starting to rise and wanted to put it off. He changed the pace to a gentle rocking. He heard Vicki’s purrs of delight and looked down at her face. Her eyes were closed and she wore a smile that betrayed pleasure and contentment.

After a short time she looked up and said, “James, this is so good. Do me hard again.”

He obediently returned to his strong thrusting. As he stroked inward he heard her exhale her pleasure sounds. She tightened her vagina around him. It made his orgasm rise again, and this time he knew there would be no retreat from it.

“Cry out my name!” he screamed, but only to himself. He climaxed before she had a chance to.

***********

James and Vicki lay side by side in the aftermath of sex. It had been good: sensuous, innovative, and filled with pleasure for both. Nothing is ever perfect, however, and some things James resolved to try again later.

“James, that was good,” Vicki complimented him. “It appears that you’ve been doing some practicing with Abby.”

“No, Vicki, I save all my firsts for you,” he answered.

“You’ve never taken charge like that before,” she continued.

“It was one of those ‘variety’ things that we always talk about,” he answered, and Vicki noted the sarcasm in his voice.

“Something wrong?” she queried.

“Not really—maybe just one thing,” James replied. “When Abby and I are together she…you know…at the end…she seems to…”

Vicki propped herself on her elbow and looked down at him. “You mean climax?” she interrupted. “Forget it, Sugar. I never do—at least with a man inside me. I’ll never give up that last little bit, at least not ever again. I learned my lesson a long time ago.”

James kept silent, but knew that in her defiance she had finally answered his burning question. To have the answer displeased him, for it only told him how high and impenetrable was the fence around her soul, and he was convinced right then that it was where he wanted to be. If he could gain entry, he could return the favor and let her into his own. It was plain that it would not happen soon.

She must have sensed his sadness. “Don’t be disappointed. It’s just the way it is. I really enjoy sex with you. It’s just that one little thing. You give me a lot of pleasure, and I know how to give it to you.”

On that final point, James had to agree. They rested a while longer and had sex again and then went to sleep. In the morning they showered together and had sex then, too. After a nice breakfast, James was on his way back to his rooming house.

***********

TO BE CONTINUED

Message from: shannon <shannonq18@yahoo.com> :

I just wrote you before but I'm not sure if you
received it or not. You have many things to
unravel in this story. I like it very much and
await your next submission.

Shannon

Message from: Ralph <raandvalk@netscape.net> :

AutumnWriter

It was a pleasure to read two more chapters.
You're fond of introducing possible flashpoints -
Nathan and his relationships now. There are a lot
of people who have secrets and James is now privy
to a number of them. Let's hope he keeps the sense
of integrity that makes him special.

James sex life is certainly improving and Vicki
may yet fall for his honest charm. She has been
rather special.

Another flashpoint is Becky's pregnancy. I wonder
if James will end up getting blamed? The chance is
a strong one if Becky tries to deflect blame. I
think you've set up that possibility rather
cleverly.

I'm loving the story. Thanks so much for writing.

Ralph (New Zealand)

This message contains feedback for: AutumnWriter
About the submission: The Blameless Bystander Ch. 10
This feedback was sent by: brucees@gmail.com

Comments:

Another good chapter, and I wonder if the story is coasting at this point. The story seems becalmed, adrift, as if it's taking a respite. That's okay. It's not a criticism, but an observation.
Do you feel pressured to produce chapters for any reason? Readers encouragement?
Is this the chapter you wanted to write? Again, not a criticism, but a question stimulated by my sense that the story lacks energy right now.
I do look forward to more, when they're ready to come forth.
Thanks for all of it so far.

This message contains feedback for: AutumnWriter
About the submission: The Blameless Bystander Ch. 10
This feedback was sent by: Dsully44@aol.com

Comments:

I have really enjoyed this story and look for new chapters every day. Thank you and keep up the good work.

Dan

This message contains feedback for: AutumnWriter
About the submission: The Blameless Bystander Ch. 10
This feedback was sent by: Anonymous

Comments:

you have aq handle on the human fobiles. keep it up.

This message contains feedback for: AutumnWriter
About the submission: The Blameless Bystander Ch. 10
This feedback was sent by: Anonymous

Comments:

Hello Author,

I admire your talent.

A thought for you. As you see at this time no comments. Puzzling given your talent but reflective of the difficulty to maintain interest over the long haul.

Please give some thought to bringing this to closure. To have such good work elongated to satisfy length not quality besmirches your credibility.

A thought for your consideration.

.W.,

You wrote a hot and exciting sex scene between James and Vicki. I like the control James exercised with his assertive lover. He took just the right amount of control to get Vicki to go along with him, and it excited her, but he didn't intimidate or threaten Vicki. Very realistically written, I'd say.

Laid back is fine, too. You change the pace of your story, which to me is the sign of a writer willing to take chances with her/his readers, and, me thinks, a self-assuredness of the writer. Keep it up.

One of the best things about your writing is that it's grounded; it's realistic. I can easily believe who the character are, what they do, and their motivations.

It's intriguing what you wrote (below) about Vicki, her motivations and emotional make-up. I like her character, in spite of whatever 'flaws' she may have. She strikes me as a compassionate, caring and sex positive woman and lover. I like her a lot. Many women, I fear, would reject James because of his inexperience. Vicki sees it as an opportunity to create a lover of her choosing. Now, with James having taken some initiative in their loving, Vicki will be motivated (if not pushed) to take a look at her resistance to connecting deeply with another person intimately. I like, too, that Vicki, James and Abby are interconnected lustily. It shows openmindedness on James's part to accept, and actually enjoy, the sex between the two women. I'm for love and sexual joining in whatever form it takes between consenting adults.

It's great that James is going for the gusto (to risk quoting a cliche, and advertising slogan).

I also like that James is as giving of his time, energy, enthusiasm and support to Raymond, and the other students he tutors. (He was probably as good, if not better, priest than many of the other priests.)

I look forward to seeing what happens regarding Jarrod's and Tracy's affair, the arrogance and crazy-minded Ethan, James's love life, and, in general, of the doings in that semi-backwater called Bates. The town sure has its cast of characters, some of which I wouldn't want crossing the threshold of my home.

Thanks for the gift of your writing. Happy winter!

Bruce

On Jan 11, 2007, at 6:10 PM, AutumnWriter@aol.com wrote:

Thanks for your note. I'm glad that you wrote again. Thanks for reading.

I understand your question about the pace of the story, and I think that it is a good one.

In answer, I wouldn't say that the story is 'coasting', but that in Chapter 10 it entered a 'mellow' period. There are a couple of reasons for that.

One is that I thought that after a number of chapters of faster paced action, it needed to slow down temporarily. I knew this chapter was a little slower, but I think that the preceding ones moved pretty well. The next one has a lot going on, too.

The second, and most important, reason is that I was at a point in the progression of the plot that I had to make some things happen. They are important events. A review of what happened in Ch. 10 are these:

1. James is interviewed by the newspaper and his picture is inserted with the story, identifying him to the whole town.

2. The 'braintrust' at the school meets to plot their strategy. Jackson shows that he doesn't completely trust James. James discloses that Tracey and Jarrod are having an affair.

3. In the meeting at Ethan's house the following comes out:

a. Jarrod doesn't really believe that James is guilty, but is going along with it, anyway

b. Ethan is worried about his daughter, but doesn't know why. Judith is suspicious of Brad.

c. Ethan is increasingly delusional

d. Jarrod is probably cooking the church books

4. James sets up Raymond up with his trip to the company in Rochester. This is an important insight into James' true character and leads to more events later. It is also an insight into Tracey's mental makeup

5. The newspaper is starting to line up on James' side.

6. James is kicked out of the barber shop because (at least some of) the townspeople have assumed his guilt with no evidence.

7. James struggles to please Vicki during sex and she discloses why she hasn't had an orgasm with him. This is very important to the story because:

a. Sex with Vicki and James is getting stale. I intentionally wrote the opening of the sequence in a bland way, to give it a feeling of 'routineness'.

b. James is desperate to please Vicki, rather than only take from her. It is the first moment that he connects sexual activity with his feelings toward his sex partner. He doesn't feel 100% satisfied because he senses that he hasn't fulfilled her needs.

c. Vicki's disclosure reveals that she has emotional troubles of her own.

[It doesn't imply that James has completely turned the corner, but he has started to.]

I think that there's a lot to be had in this chapter, and the plot can't proceed without getting it out.

Sometimes my style is a little laid back, which reflects my own personality at times.

I enjoyed discussing with you. If you have further comments or questions, I would appreciate your sending them.

Best regards,