The Blameless Bystander

© Copyright 2006, 2007, 2009

By Autumn Writer

Chapter 15—Confessions

After Jarrod left with the briefcase Tracey phoned Hal Wright, as he asked her to.

Tracey:  “He’s gone.  He took the case and left; he didn’t stay long.”

Hal:       “Good!  Did he suspect anything?”

Tracey:  “No, he asked if I opened it, and I said that I didn’t.  He believed me.”

Hal:       “I still don’t like it, Tracey.  He might look in the folders and see that the papers have been reshuffled.  He’ll have to know it was you.  He’d be sure to fly into a rage again.”

Tracey:  “I don’t know what I can do about that.”

Hal:       “If he gets on to you, tell him everything.  If he knows the police are aware of what he did, he won’t dare do anything.  We’ll know it’s him.”

Tracey:  “I don’t think he’ll be around for a while—not until my face heals up.  I’m no good to him without my looks.  If I have a big scar on my lip, he may never be back.”

Hal:       “Maybe so, but I’m going to be calling on you from time to time until this is over.  Don’t you have some family you can stay with?”

Tracey:  “Just my stepmother, but I won’t go there.  She has young children and I won’t have them seeing me like this.”

Hal:      “Stay out of work for a few days.  I’ll look in on you tomorrow.”    

Tracey:  “How long do you think it will be before this is over?”

Hal:      “That’s hard to tell.  I’ll call the IRS tomorrow and let you know.”

*********** 

“Look, there it is; what else can I say?” Nathan asked.

James took a deep breath before answering.  It was difficult not to tell Nathan off.  James, after all, was blameless and Nathan had done a lot to make things worse—for him and many others.  James told himself to forego the self indulgence, but he couldn’t hold it all in.

“You mean to say that you don’t want me associated with the school, but you want me back;  that you have great teachers, but many students failed; that you need me, but you want me to form a dba so that no one will know that I’m here.”

“I know that you need the money.  That Feed Mill job doesn’t pay much and your Unemployment claim was rejected,” Nathan countered.

“I’ll get by,” James replied.  He felt victorious, but he kept stone-faced.

“Look,” Nathan pleaded, “we’re in a bind.  I think you can see that.”

“I’ll do it,” James assured him.  “You’ll have to up the fee by fifteen percent.  I want you to know that I’m doing it for the students—and the money.  Don’t consider this a personal favor.”

“I can see that you’re not as naïve as you were when you first came here,” Nathan conceded.

“Around here, that’s self-defense,” James countered.  “You know, I would never have disclosed your secret.  You should have believed me when I told you that.  If you had, I would still be here backing you up.”

“That’s water over the dam now,” Nathan said.  “I suppose it’s true.  You don’t know what it’s like to be afraid all the time.  I never know when someone might see me or some little fact might lead to another and then another.  I can’t afford to take chances.”

“I’m sure that there are others who know.  Vicki does, of course.  I’d bet that Abby knows, too.”

“I only trust people who have something that I can hold over their heads,” Nathan said.  “I never had anything on you, so I couldn’t trust you.”

“Well, you have no choice, now.”

“It’s thirty-three students,” Nathan went on.  “I know it’s a big section.  We’re making our best classroom available to you.”

“That’s not what I want,” James replied.  “Give me a classroom that’s small and in close quarters.  I’m splitting the class.  I want the class list and the grades.  I’ll divide the class between those that came close to passing, and those that are really lost.”

“You’re going to teach two sections at one time?” Nathan asked.

“The lower section will be Tuesdays and the better section on Wednesdays.”

“James, we really didn’t have two nights a week in mind,” Nathan cautioned.  “Maybe the better students can help the slower ones.”

“The word ‘better’ is a relative term here.  They have troubles of their own.”

“You named your own poison,” Nathan shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter; results are what count and time’s wasting.  There’s a lot to be done, and this is the way it has to be,” James insisted.

“Okay, okay,” Nathan held his hands up in surrender.

“There’s one more thing,” James said.  “I need an assistant.  I want Raymond Jacobs to help me.”

“You mean your tutoring student?  I don’t have the money in the budget for it, and I could never get a payment approved for a student,” Nathan protested.

“Don’t worry about that.  I’ll take care of the payment.  It’s the reason for the extra fifteen percent.”

*********** 

When Raymond got home from school that day, James was waiting for him, talking with Shirley over coffee.

“Hi, Mr. O’Toole!  I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Raymond, Mr. O’Toole has something to ask you,” his mother said.

“Did you hear how many seniors failed the Trig midterm?” James asked.

“I heard it was a lot,” Raymond answered.

“It was thirty-three,” James replied.  “I have a job at the school teaching them review at night so they can pass the Final in June and graduate.”

“Does that mean you won’t be able to tutor me anymore?” Raymond asked, almost hiding a frown.        

“No,” James answered.  “Our sessions are on Mondays, and I set these new classes up for Tuesday and Wednesday.  I came to see if you’d like to be my assistant.  You would give special help to students to ease them through the problems.  I want to work one-on-one as much as possible.  There’s too much catch-up necessary for regular teaching methods in the time we have left.”

“I’m not sure, Mr. O’Toole.  I don’t know many of those kids.  I’m don’t know if I can do it.”

“It’ll be good for you, too.  The math will be easy for you, but you’ll learn other things that will help you later.”

“Those kids don’t really like me.  They think I’m a bookworm.”

“They’ll like you when they’re in their caps and gowns accepting their diplomas because you helped them,” James countered.

“Raymond,” Shirley said, “you’ve received a lot from Mr. O’Toole for free.  You’ve got to give something if you have a chance to.”

“I’ll keep tutoring you whether you agree or not, Raymond.  It’s your choice.  I need your help on this, and these kids do, too.”

“What can I say?” Raymond said.  “I just hope I can do it.”

“There’s one other thing,” James added.  “The School District will pay you a fee for your work.  It’ll be a hundred and ten dollars a week right through exams.  It’ll be a nice amount to have in the bank when you go to college in the Fall.”

“You didn’t tell me that!” Shirley exclaimed.

“I guess I forgot until just now,” James answered.

*********** 

James had to ask around to find out what a dba actually was.  Bert Hodges tried to explain it, but couldn’t.  No one knew, so he called Nathan back and asked him.

“You get it at the County Clerk’s office,” he told James.  “It stands for ‘doing business as’ and it means that you’re registered to do business under a trade name.”

“Do I really have to have one?” he asked.

“Bob Jackson wants it,” Nathan confirmed.  “In the long run, you’ll get your payments faster.  When you get it, bring it over to me and I’ll get the purchase order cut for you.  You should do it today, if you can, so we can get moving.”

James couldn’t go until his shift was over at the Feed Mill.  He had already asked for time off for his meeting with Nathan.   It was two in the afternoon before he was on the road to Hornell.  He had to stop at the bank first, because he found out that the certificate would cost sixty dollars. 

In all, it was an aggravating exercise.  “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ’em,” he quipped out loud as he patiently guided his car over snow-covered roads.  He shook his head in disbelief.  “Please tell me I didn’t just say that,” he begged to the empty passenger’s seat. 

“Better stop talking to myself,” he told himself silently.

At the County Clerk’s office an attendant approached him as he leaned against the massive wooden counter.  She was a corpulent woman, with an unhurried manner.  She thrust a form over the varnished wood.  “Fill this out,” she ordered.  “Don’t forget to look in the book before you write in the name.  Bring it back with your payment after you have it notarized,” she recited.

“What book?  What am I looking for?” James asked.

“Over there,” the exasperated clerk pointed to the end of the counter.  “You have to see if the name you want is already taken.” 

James did as instructed.  He hadn’t even thought of a name for his venture.  He scribbled something simple on the form and returned to the attendant.  “You’ve got to get it notarized,” she reminded him. 

“Where can I do that?” James asked patiently.

“Almost anywhere,” was the answer.  “Banks, lawyers—they’ve all got ‘em.”

“Are you a notary?” James asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Would you notarize my form?” James asked.

“I can’t,” she answered.  “I have to sign in a different place, so I can’t witness it, too.”

The hour was drawing late and James was determined not to have to return the next day.  A sudden inspiration, born of need, came upon him.  He hurried to the lobby and found a public phone.  After looking up a number he placed the call.

“Hello,” he spoke into the phone over the din of the lobby.  “Can I speak with Miss Martin?”  He waited on hold for half a minute.  “Hello, Miss Martin—James O’Toole.  I’m downstairs right now.  I was wondering if you’re a Notary Public—or maybe you know one who could sign a form for me.”

“You’re a real lifesaver,” James attested as he presented himself in Miss Martin’s office.

“What have you got?” she asked as she took the paper from him.  She read it without waiting for his answer.  “A dba form?  I wouldn’t have guessed that.”  She read a little further and then pressed a stamp onto the witness line and signed her name above it.  “JOT Education Services,” she read out loud.  “So you’re an entrepreneur, now?”

“It’s a long story,” James answered.  “You’d be bored if I told you.  Besides, I’ve got to get back to the County Clerk’s office before they close.”

“There’s a fee for notary services,” she called after him as he was halfway out the door.

“Sorry, I didn’t know,” James answered with a sheepish grin and dug into his pocket.

“None of the stories I’ve heard about you are boring,” Miss Martin said, “so the fee is that you have to come back up when you’re done at the Clerk’s Office and tell me the story.”

James realized that he had been had, and laughed a little.  He thought he detected a faint trace of a smile on her lips, but realized quickly that he was probably mistaken.

************* 

James returned to Miss Martin’s office after securing his dba certificate.

“So what’s the dba all about?” she asked, as James took a seat in her office. 

“Like I said before, it’s a long story, so I hope you don’t have anything to do right now.”

“Go ahead,” she urged.  “I’m listening.”

James took a breath and was about to begin his ‘dba story’ when the department secretary stuck her head in the door.  “The County’s closing the roads.  We have to close the office in fifteen minutes.”

James hadn’t noticed how bad the weather had become.  There was a heavy snow falling and the wind was driving it sideways.  “I better give you a raincheck on this story of mine,” James said.  “I think that I’ll get on the road.”

“You’ll never make it all the way to Bates,” she admonished.  “The roads are closing, anyway; the police would stop you.  You should try to get a room at the Downtown Hotel.”

James sighed.  A night in an old hotel wasn’t the evening or expense he had in mind, but he knew she was right.  To make matters worse, nightfall was close at hand.

“Let me call down there and reserve a room for you,” she offered as she punched the numbers in the keypad.  She waited for the line to connect, and then set the receiver back on its hook.  “Their line’s busy,” she said.  “Everyone’s probably trying to get in there.”

“There must be another hotel,” James said.  “It’s just for a night.  I’m not fussy.”

“None in town,” she answered.  “You’d have to go out on the State Highway.  I doubt that they’ll let you.”  She glanced out the window.  “Look at it coming down,” she said in awe.  From her window on the fourth floor they watched the wind-driven snow, so heavy that they could barely see the hundreds of office workers struggling against the blizzard to find their cars.

“You’ll have to do something,” she said.  “You don’t have much time to make up your mind.”

“I’ll try the Hotel again,” James suggested.

“No,” she said, shaking her head.  “It’s not a very big hotel; I’m sure that they’re full by now.  I know someone who’ll take you in.  You can leave your car here in the lot.  I’ll drive you there.”

“That’s too much trouble to put you to,” James replied.

“I insist,” she said.  “Let’s get going before the weather gets even worse.”

*********** 

It was nearly a half hour before they were able to brush the snow from Miss Martin’s car and make their way out of the parking lot and onto the street.  The going was slow.  At times the wind blew so hard that the tail lights on the car ahead were invisible.  “If we can get into the residential streets it should block some of the wind,” James said.

“That’s true,” she answered, “but the streets won’t be plowed.  They’re having a hard time keeping the main roads clear.”  At long last, after an hour of creeping though snow-drifted streets, they arrived at a duplex on the edge of town.  “You can stay here for the night,” she assured him.  “I know the person who lives here.”

She turned the car to point into the driveway.  The car lost traction on the slight incline and the wheels spun in the fresh snow.  It was knee high by then.  James got out to push the car up the hill.  After great exertion and twenty minutes of pushing and spun wheels, the car staggered up the driveway and came to rest alongside of the side door of the house.  Miss Martin shut off the motor, and James followed her inside.

The doorway opened to a stairway that led to the kitchen.  The house was dark.  She flicked on the switch and peeled off her coat and then her boots.  James was covered with snow.  It was beginning to melt and run down his hair and onto his face.

“You’d better shake off your coat and hang it over there,” she advised him.  “There’s a bathroom just down there off the hallway.  You can dry yourself off.”

There were some clean towels in the bathroom and James dried himself off.  He came out and expected to find the homeowner waiting for him with Miss Martin explaining who he was.  He looked around and found no one, except her, who was clattering in a cupboard full of pots and pans.  He wondered where he was.

“It looks like no one is home,” James observed.

“I live here,” she replied.  “This is my home—at least this half of the duplex.”

James was surprised and kept silent for a second before speaking.  ”This is asking too much,” he protested. “I can’t stay here overnight.  What will it do to your reputation if the wrong person finds out?”

“I don’t have a reputation, so it would probably give it a boost,” she declared as she pulled a saucepan out of the cupboard., “and I’m glad for the company.”

“I’m practically a stranger to you,” he said, but did not convince her.

“Less a stranger than you might think,” she answered.  “Never mind that, it’s too late for you to go anywhere else, anyway.  I’ll heat up the stove and start some dinner cooking.  Is spaghetti alright?  I’m a little low on supplies.”

“Right now, soda crackers and catsup would look appealing,” James said.

She put on the pasta water to boil.  “I have sauce already made in the refrigerator.  I’ll put on some tea to warm us up.  I have wine for later.”

 “Can I help with anything?” James asked.

“No,” she answered.  “Just make yourself at home.  The living room is that way.  Maybe you can find some storm news on the television.” 

******************* 

James hadn’t realized how truly hungry he was until he finished his second plate of spaghetti and sauce.  Then he remembered that he had skipped lunch.  Over dinner he told her the story of the dba, Nathan, and the remedial courses he was preparing to teach.  Miss Martin said nothing as he told her.  She just listened and nodded as James’ excitement was on display.  He told her just how he planned to do it and pull every last student through.  At long-last he pushed away from the table.

“That was the best Italian food I’ve had in a long, long time,” he declared.  “I was so long-winded that I forgot to say thank you.”  He topped off both wine glasses.

“It was just thrown together,” she replied.  “It just tasted good because you were so hungry and worn out from pushing the car up the driveway.  Anyway, I don’t get much chance to have dinner guests.”

“It’s very nice of you to do this for me, Miss Martin.”

“If we’re to be housemates for a night, I think you can call me Connie.”  James thought he spotted a trace of a blush on her skin.  She rose to clear the dishes and James helped her.  “I’ll wash them in the morning,” she said.  “We can go in the living room and finish the wine.”

Connie sat on the sofa and curled her feet under her.  James sat in an easy chair nearby.  “I don’t usually drink this much wine,” she confided.

“You have a nice home,” James observed.  “How long have you lived here?”

“About two years,” she answered. 

“Where did you live before that?”

“Hmmm—around,” she replied.

“Have you been a social worker a long time?”

“Fifteen years.”

“In the kitchen you said that I was less a stranger to you than I thought,” James asked.  “Why did you say that?”

Connie looked away for a second, and then snapped back to attention.  “I’ll tell you later,” she replied.  “First, tell me why you gave up your vows.”

“A lot of people have asked me, and I’m not sure of the answer to this day.  I just know that I didn’t feel much like a priest in those last few years.  I was ashamed of my hypocrisy.  I guess that I was running away from it.”

“Wasn’t there any time that you thought you were right for it?” she asked.

“There was—a long time ago.”  James told Connie of his Guatemala days.  He told her the story of them.  He played back the scenes of the villages, the poor, but hard-working students that he taught.   He recounted all the things he did, and learned.  Mostly, he told her how the hardships refreshed his body and the sacrifices stirred his soul.  “In the end,” he confessed, “I think I resented having to leave.  That’s what probably told me deep-down that I wasn’t cut out to be a priest.  Having to obey ruined it.  Obedience was a vow that I had no joy in keeping.” 

He paused, thinking about what he just said.  “You know, I never realized that before,” he confided.  “You really helped me.” 

“I won’t take credit for what was inside you all along,” she said.

“Your turn,” he reminded her.

“It’s boring, compared to what you’ve just told me.”

“C’mon, we had a deal.  It’s time for you to hold up your end.”

“It’s really not much of a story,” she protested, and then looked away, biting her lip.

“Never mind,” James consoled.  “We’ll talk about something else.”

“I’ll tell you,” she replied.  “Let me summon up my courage first.”  She refilled her wine glass, and James’, too.  She took a big swallow and a deep breath.”

“I was a sister in the Convent of Charity,” she declared.  James’ eyes widened with surprise.  “You see, in a certain way, we’re not strangers.”  She swallowed some more wine.  “I was a social worker, assigned to work in a hospital.  My father passed away.  Not long after that, my mother became sick, too.  My brothers were far away in their Silicon Valley jobs.  The only one to take care of my mother was me.”

“You gave up your vows to care for her?” James asked.

“I asked for a leave for that purpose,” she explained.  “I never wanted to give up my vows.  Not long after my mother passed away, the hospital where I worked closed.  The Order had no work for me.  I would have been an extra mouth to feed.  They asked me to be on ‘hold’ until they figured out something.  I used the time to wrap up my parents’ estate.  After that, the Order still had nothing for me, so I asked for my release. That was two and a half years ago.”

“That’s kind of sad,” James said.

“It’s in the past,” Connie said.  “I’m doing the same kind of work, and I’ve found that I can still be close to God, with or without vows.”     

“You appear to be doing well in civilian life,” James said.

“It’s alright,” she admitted.  “I only rent this half of the house.  I have some savings.  Sometimes I think that I’d like to buy a place of my own, but it’s easy to lose interest when there would be no one to share it with.”

“I was born to teach Math,” James said.  “I’ll be doing that somewhere.  It might not be in this Valley, after everything that’s been said about me.”

She didn’t answer, but filled their wineglasses again, draining the bottle. 

“I haven’t had Chianti in a long time,” James said.  “I hadn’t remembered that it tasted this good.”

Connie ignored his comment. “I’ve gotten used to life outside the Order, except for one thing.”

“What’s that?” James asked.

“Sex,” she stated.  “I’m so confused about it.  I don’t know what I’d do if I ever had an offer—but I don’t think I’ll ever get one.  You can see that I’m not very pretty.”

“The eye of the beholder,” James answered.

“Everyone seems to be going at it at will,” she complained.  “I can’t see myself doing that.  I’d like there to be feeling, a joining of spirits.  Am I wrong to want that?”

“The right guy will come along,” James consoled her.  “You just have to be patient.”

“I’m used to men ignoring me,” she went on.  “My coworkers think I’m a lesbian.”

“I think that you worry too much, Connie.”

“Tell me,” she demanded, “how do you handle it?”

“Not very well, I’m afraid,” James confessed.  “Believe me, Connie, you don’t want my advice.  I’m as confused as you are, but I didn’t have the sense to think it through first, like you have.”

“You have to tell me, James.  That’s why I brought you to my home.”

“I don’t understand,” James said.

“The hotel wasn’t full.  I lied,” she confessed. 

“I didn’t think that you were capable of lying,” James told her.

“I didn’t think so, either,” she answered.  “I just have to know.  Please, tell me.”

“I would tell you if I did know,” James replied.  “Talking to you tonight made me realize how much I don’t know anything.”

James arose and walked to the window to break the uncomfortable silence.  “Listen to that wind howl,” he mumbled as he gazed out onto the street.

“The wine made me feel sleepy,” she murmured as she rested her head on a pile of pillows at the end of the sofa. 

James stood at the window, watching the blizzard obscure the darkness.  She had pierced him so deeply.  Yet, she had so carelessly exposed her own vulnerability at the same time.  She seemed so unafraid of her weakness.  James wished that he could question her about that, but after his unsatisfactory attempt at answering her he kept that question to himself.

The unpleasant stab ripped open a supposedly sealed portal that poured out his sour juices.  He wished that the void could have been filled with sweet wisdom, but she gave only questions and riddles to place inside him.  He thought of Father Brendan and couldn’t help but smile a little.

He glanced back at her lying on the sofa.  Her eyes were closed and her only movement was her breathing.  James knew that the extra wine had done its job.  She would be asleep soon.

“My real name is Concetta Martino.  My grandfather shortened it to Martin,” a quiet voice arose from the sofa.  James allowed the howling wind to answer her.  She wasn’t finished.  “I wanted you to know everything,” she said and then nodded off to sleep..

James looked at her from across the room.  Soon her body rose and descended in the rhythm of slumber.  He found an afghan folded at the end of the couch and draped it over her.  In her sleep, she clutched the blanket to her, as though a lover.

“The innocent always sleep well,” he observed in a silent thought.

************ 

James awoke early the next morning.  He had slept in the easy chair, his overcoat around his shoulders.  He didn’t know what time it was.  The scanty light in the darkened living room of Connie’s house told him that it was close to sunup.  He glanced over to the couch, expecting to see Connie, but there was only the empty blanket.  Then he smelled the brewing coffee. 

“Good morning,” he greeted her as he shuffled into the kitchen.  She was mixing some batter.

“There’s a toothbrush in the bathroom,” she said.  “The wrapper’s still on it.  I’ll have some French toast ready soon.”

James went off to do his morning ablutions.  While he did so, he wondered why Connie seemed so cross.  He hoped that he hadn’t said anything to offend her.

“I apologize for last night,” she said as he returned from the bathroom.  “I had too much wine.”

“Apologize for what?” James asked as he sipped his coffee.  “I thought that we had a nice talk.”

“I’m a pathetic, besotted spinster,” she said without looking up at him.  “You must think that I kidnapped you to give me vicarious thrills.”

“That’s not what I thought,” he told her.

“What then?”

“I think that you’re lonely and you have a lot of questions about an important part of life, with no one to ask.  I was afraid of your questions—and the answers, but I couldn’t turn away from them.”

“That’s what you thought?” she asked, finally raising her eyes to him.

“I thought that we were friends,” James said.  “At least that’s what I’m hoping for.”

“Friends with me?” she confirmed.  

“Let’s eat,” James commanded.

*************** 

Detective Hal Wright knocked on Tracey’s door in the late afternoon.  “I came to see how you’re doing,” he said as she opened the door.

“I’ve been back on the job for a few days,” she answered.  “I get my stitches out tomorrow.”

“What did you tell them at school?” he asked.

“I told them I was in an automobile accident.  I don’t know if anyone believed me, but no one seemed to care very much, either.  They’re probably waiting to see if I end with a scar on my lip.”

“Do you think that anyone suspects that Jarrod Morris beat you up?”  Hal asked.

“No, we’ve always been careful about keeping that a secret.”

“I spoke with the IRS.  They pulled his company’s tax records from the archives.  They’d like the original Church files, if they can get them.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Tracey said.

“When will you see him again?” Hal asked. 

“He always decides.  He won’t come around until my stitches are out.  He’ll probably buy me something to try to make up for what he did.”

“I see,” Hal said with a grimace.

“You don’t think much of me, do you,” Tracey asked.

“That’s not true,” he answered.  “I think you have a lot of courage.  It’s just that you’re selling yourself short by quite a bit.”

Tracey looked away.  “Unfortunately, that decision was made a long time ago.  Who would be interested in me now?”

“I would, for one,” Hal said.  “Me and about a thousand other guys.  But, that would be up to you.”

“So, your wife wouldn’t object?”

“Ex-wife,” Hal corrected.  “She’s out in California now.  No, I doubt that she would even want to waste time thinking about it.”

“I don’t know if…” Tracey hesitated.

“I can’t do anything about it until this case is closed, or I’m taken off it,” Hal explained.  “You have time to think about it.”

“I might have to sleep with Jarrod.  How does it make you feel?” 

“I’d rather not answer,” he said.  “But I might have a solution for that.  It has to do with an idea that the IRS boys had for getting that original file secured.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Let me fill you in,” Hal said as they sat at the dinette table.

************* 

“There’s a Miss Jacobs to see you in the waiting room, Mr. Morris,” Jarrod’s secretary told him as she brought him his coffee.

Jarrod looked up with a start, and then regained his composure.  “Jacobs…Jacobs,” he wondered out loud.  “Do I know her?”

“She has bruises on her face,” the secretary said.  “Maybe she was in an accident and has a claim.”

“Why don’t you send her in and I’ll see who she is.”

Jarrod shut the door behind Tracey as she walked in.  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I know you said I should never come here,” she answered, “but this is an emergency.”

“Now what kind of emergency could there be?”

“Two men from the IRS came to my house this morning before I left for work,” she answered.  “They were asking all kinds of questions about you.”

“IRS?  Questions about me?” Jarrod asked.  “Are you sure they were from the IRS?”

“Oh, yes,” Tracey answered.  “I made them show me ID, and they gave these business cards.”  She handed them to Jarrod.  “At first, I told them that I didn’t know you, but then they said that they had photos of your car in my driveway.”

Jarrod kept fingering the agents’ business cards.  “What kind of questions?”

“They asked about your business; how much money you had, and if you ever gave me any presents.  They asked about your Church and Ethan Chandler.”

“The Church?” Jarrod asked.  “What did they ask about the Church?  Did they say they were going to talk to Ethan?”

“They didn’t tell me.  I told them that I didn’t know anything about any of that sort of thing, and that we’re friends and you come over and talk once in a while.  I told them that you never gave me any presents.  I think they believed me.  They didn’t press it.”

“Did anyone see you come here to the office, Tracey?”

No, I don’t think so.  I went to school first and slipped out the back way.  I walked over, didn’t even use my car,” she assured him.  “Look, Jarrod,” she went on, “we’ve had some hard feelings lately, but I never…”

“Don’t worry, Tracey,” Jarrod assured her.  “I know you’re my girl.  I haven’t treated you very well lately—but I’m going to make it up to you with something real special as soon as I can.”

“I like the sound of that, Jarrod,” she cooed.  “We can get back to the way we were.”

“There’s just a little favor that I need to ask you first,” Jarrod said as he gave her his ‘let’s close the deal’ smile. 

“Anything, Jarrod.  Just ask me.”

“I need a safekeeping place for this briefcase,” he said, pulling it from a filing cabinet.  “It’s the one I forgot at your house a while ago.  You recognize it, don’t you?”

“If you say so, Jarrod.  You know I never pay attention to those things.”

“Can you just hide this at your house for me for a while until this IRS thing blows over?” Jarrod asked.  “I’d really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” she said. 

“And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t open it, too.  It’s kind of private.”

“As soon as I hide it, I’ll forget it’s even there.”

“That’s my girl, Tracey.  I owe you a big Thank You—and you know how well I know how to say Thank You.”

“I can hardly wait, Jarrod.”

“It will have to wait a while, though.  They may be watching you—or me.  I can’t be seen with you until I know it’s safe.”

“I hope it’s not too long,” Tracey answered, as she picked up the briefcase and rose to leave.

Tracey started out on the short walk to her house.  Jarrod watched her through a slit in the Venetian blinds of his office window as she crossed the street.  As she crossed into the residential area, out of sight of the downtown offices, a large black sedan pulled up to where she was walking.    

The passenger’s side window slowly rolled down.  “Tracey, get in the back seat.”  It was Hal Wright calling her from inside the car.

“Tracey, these men are Agents Reed and Hoffman from the IRS,” Hal told her.  “Gentlemen, this is Miss Tracey Jacobs.”

“Those business cards are what convinced him,” she told them as she handed over the briefcase to Agent Hoffman, who was seated next to her.

“Everything went smooth—he didn’t suspect you?” Hal asked.    

“He said that we wouldn’t see each other for a while because he’s afraid that you’re watching us,” Tracey explained.  “And that’s okay with me.”

“Just call him every week or so and tell him that there’s a man parked down the street that look’s like a cop and you think he’s watching your house.  That’ll keep him away,” Hal answered.

“Of course if he does show up, call Emergency right away,” Agent Reed added.  “We’re putting your address on the dispatcher’s ‘Hot List’.”

“It all seems to be here,” Hoffman said.  “Miss Jacobs, you’ve done a great service to …”

“I did it for myself,” Tracey said.

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

Several weeks passed by, and not much happened, except that James taught his course with Raymond’s help.  James and Connie became friends and began spending time together.  One night, James called her on his cell phone. 

James:  “Hi, Connie, it’s James.”

Connie: “I thought that you had to teach a class tonight.”

James:  “They’re taking a quiz right now.  Raymond is watching the class.  I stole a few minutes to call you.”

Connie: “How do you think they’ll do?”

James: “We’ll know better after tonight.  I think they’ll be alright.  We’ve got twenty-nine left of the original thirty three we started with six weeks ago.  I think that there are five who are borderline cases.  The rest will pass if they stick with it.  Raymond’s been a big help.”

Connie:  “Make them stay the course, James.  Don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

James:  “I have other news.  Bert Hodges offered me a permanent job at the Feed Mill.  He wants to make me Assistant Manager.  I’d be in charge of keeping the books and inventory, ordering more stock, that sort of thing.”

Connie:  “Are you going to accept?”

James:  “I don’t know.  It would mean giving up teaching, but I’m not sure if I’ll ever get another job in a school with all that’s happened.”

Connie: “You could accept the job from Bert and keep looking.  You’d make a lot more money.”

James:  “I could—but I won’t.  I wouldn’t do that to Bert.  He gave me a job when no one else in this town would.  If I take the job, I’m in a hundred percent.”

Connie:  “That’s what I thought you would say.  I was just testing.  You know that teaching is your first love.”

James: “I’ve got to think about it.  We can talk about it on Saturday night.  Are we still on?”

Connie: “Yes, of course.  I can’t believe you’re taking me to a hockey game.”

*************** 

James always gave Raymond a ride home after the night classes.  Usually, they would talk about that night’s class, which students were doing well and what had to be reviewed again.  That night Raymond was quiet, and to James, he appeared edgy. 

“How do you think the quiz went tonight?” James asked.

“Okay, I guess.”

“You don’t sound very enthused about it,” James pointed out.  “Anything else on your mind?”

“I think I’ve changed my mind about becoming an engineer,” Raymond blurted out.

“Sounds serious,” James replied.  “What does your mother think?”

“She doesn’t know yet.  I just decided tonight.”

“In that case, what do you think you want to study?” James queried.

“This job you gave me makes me want to be a math teacher, like you.”

“That’s interesting,” James replied.  “I thought that you were committed to engineering.”

“I was, but there’s a lot to think about.  Maybe Engineering School won’t turn out so well.  I know I can do high school math and I can stay right here in Bates and get a job.  You’re happy doing it.”

“Everyone is meant to do something,” James told him.  “Teaching is what I was meant to do, Raymond, but you can’t be me.  You want to design things and build them.  You told me so many times.  Don’t you remember your trip to the factory in Rochester?”

“Yeah, that was great.  But, I may never get a chance at a place like that.”

“I don’t see why not,” James answered.  “I can tell you that if it’s what you really want, you’ll never forgive yourself if you settle for less and never find out.  Be a teacher if you want to, but don’t let cold feet talk you out of your dreams.”

Raymond was quiet for a while.  As they turned into the entrance of his trailer park, he spoke again.  “You were right, Mr. O’Toole.  I’m sorry that I bothered you.  I guess it’s because I like doing this job with the night classes.”

“Don’t worry about it, Raymond,” James said.  “You did me a big favor.  I should follow my own advice.”

*********** 

“I think we’re ready to get under way, Bob,” Homer Briggs spoke for the others on the Board.  “We’re all here; the tape recorder’s running.”

“The Executive Session of the Bates School Board will now come to order,” Jackson spoke into the microphone.

It was a private Board meeting in which confidential business was discussed and transacted.  There were no members of the public or reporters present.

There were five voting Board members.  Homer Briggs was one.  The other man was Harry Thurlow, a business owner.  Millicent Petty, a retired First Grade teacher had been a member for years.  Mabel Holliday had just been elected.  She was sixty, a widow and also served on the Historical Preservation Council.  Paige Holman, a young mother and housewife, was the final member and was active in the PTA.

“We’ve got to do something about this Math problem with the seniors.  Look at this stack of mail,” Homer began.

“We’ve had an equal number of calls in the office, I can assure you,” a tired Jackson said in agreement.

“We just can’t have another scene in the public meeting like the one a few months ago,” Millicent Petty said in a whiny voice.  “That was so ugly.”

“Have you taken a tally on how the letters and calls stack up, Bob?” Homer asked.

“They basically divide into two camps.  There are those that say, ‘I thought we fired O’Toole, and now you’ve hired him back again.’  The others are saying ‘What’s the problem with our Math. Program and how many seniors aren’t graduating?”

“I think I’d like an answer to that second question,” Paige Holman said.

Millicent Petty didn’t agree.  “What about James O’Toole.  I thought he was a pedophile—and there are rumors that he raped Becky Chandler in the Teachers’ Lounge and got her pregnant.”

“Both those charges are unfounded,” Jackson said.  “We put O’Toole on Administrative leave for giving Unauthorized Assistance to the Chandler girl.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Thurlow asked. 

“She told him that she thought that she might be pregnant and he bought her a test kit in the drugstore,” Jackson answered.

“What else?” asked Holman.  “Certainly you didn’t fire him just for that?”

“He wasn’t fired.  It was Admin…”

“And now you’ve brought him back,” Mabel Holliday pointed out.

“We thought that he was the only one who could pull these failing seniors through,” Jackson replied.  “We had a real emergency.”

“What’s the matter with the teachers you still have?” Mabel demanded.  Jackson didn’t answer.

“What’s the report on the students now, Bob?” Homer Briggs asked.

“O’Toole just gave them a test.  He started with thirty-three—four dropped out after a week.  He says that he’s quite sure that twenty three of them will come through alright.  There are a half dozen that are question marks, but O’Toole isn’t giving up on any of them.”

“We gave up on O’Toole but he won’t give up on even the worst students?” Paige asked.

“So, you fired your best Math teacher when you needed him most,” Harry Thurlow said.   

“He fired O’Toole for helping a girl in trouble,” Paige said.  “He was fired when he deserved to be commended.”

“And then hired him back under an assumed name,” Mabel reminded everyone.

“It’s a good thing he did,” Harry added.

“We better bring Nathan in,” Homer suggested.  “Let’s have a recess first.  We all need to catch our breath.”

During the recess the members talked quietly among themselves, avoiding Jackson.  The women took turns using the bathroom.  As they were coming back to order Homer Briggs approached Jackson.  “Bob, the Board Members would like you to wait outside while we talk to Nathan.”

“Nathan, how did this trouble with the Math Department come about?” Harry Thurlow asked.

“It’s been building for a long time,” Nathan started to explain.  “I put money in the Budget Proposal for more Math teachers and new text books each year.  Bob always said that we couldn’t afford it.  It came to a head when the regulations changed about students having to pass the State Test for Trigonometry to get a diploma.”

“Didn’t Bob know about the State Test requirement?” Homer asked.

“Oh yes,” Nathan replied.  “There were just so many expenses.  He thought that the tutoring program would take care of it.”

“I just hate that tutoring program,” Paige Holman interrupted.  “Students having to pay for the help they need.” 

“I do, too,” Nathan agreed.  “It’s the system.  I would change it completely, if I could.”

“So you hired James O’Toole,” Millicent Petty said.

“He’s a very good teacher,” Nathan attested.  “I was going to promote him to Department Chair.”

“Then, why did you fire him” Thurlow asked.

“Bob said we had to.  The pressure from Ethan Chandler was getting too heavy,” Nathan answered.

“And you said nothing?” Mabel Holliday demanded.

“I tried my best to talk him out of it,” Nathan replied.  “In the end, I supported Bob because I thought that it was important to be unified for the good of the District.”

“Let’s not forget that O’Toole is a pedophile,” Mrs. Petty reminded them.

“Oh really, Millicent!” Paige exclaimed.  “We forgot that a long time ago.”

“Thanks, Nathan,” Homer said.  “You can go now.  Tell Bob that he can go home, too.”

************** 

Three days later Nathan avoided Bob Jackson.  Nathan waited in his office for the inevitable call.  Abby had just fielded a phone call then stood on Nathan’s office door.

“Bob’s secretary called, Abby told him.  “It’s time.”

Nathan put on his outdoor clothes and walked to the Administration building.  He came upon Jackson standing in his office.

“I don’t know what to say, Bob,” Nathan said as he shook hands with him.

“Nothing’s forever, Nathan.  I’ll catch on somewhere.” 

“I’ll have a tough time filling your shoes.  Of course, it’s just temporary,” Nathan said.

“Don’t worry; they’ll give you the permanent job after a decent waiting period.  You know how to handle them,” Bob said.

“Was it O’Toole that did it?” Nathan asked.

“I suppose so,” Jackson replied.  “I think that they were afraid that some of the blame would rub off on them.”

“It was a mistake to fire O’Toole,” Nathan mused.

“We didn’t,” Jackson reminded him.  “It was Administrative Leave.  It’s the same thing I got.  It’s poetic justice, I suppose.”

**************         

On Saturday night James was driving Connie home to Hornell after watching the hockey game.  The air was frigid, but clear.  The interstate was nearly empty, and James guided the car behind the headlight beam.

“It was exciting,” Connie remarked.  “I never knew much about hockey.”

“You got to see a good game for your first one—overtime, no less.”

“I didn’t know the rules, but I had no problem following it,” she added.

“It’s a simple game—straight-forward and direct.  I would say that the game’s a lot like you,” James said.

Connie thought for a moment, and then said, “I don’t know how to answer that, James; so I won’t.”

“That just proves my point,” James retorted.

“How did you learn so much about hockey?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I played in High School.  I enjoyed it more than excelled in it.  I wasn’t very good—not fast enough—barely made the team.  I guess I had lead in my butt.”

“Now there’s an honest and direct answer!” Connie shot back with a laugh.

“I had to tell you before someone else did.  It’s been twenty-five years, and my brother still brings it up every time I see him.”

“That statement wasn’t very simple and direct, James,” Connie said.

James hesitated.  The words slipped out at a time when he wasn’t prepared to deal properly with them.  “I don’t know how to answer that, so I won’t,” he responded, copying the repartee.

“Did they always call you James?” she asked.  “It seems kind of formal, especially on a sports team.”

“I was always ‘Jamie’ until a few months ago,” James answered.  “Nathan made me change it because he thought it sounded too ethnic.” 

“Jamie O’Toole,” she tried the feel of it on her tongue.  “I like it—especially with St. Patrick’s Day coming up.”

“Well, I probably shouldn’t have…”

“Why did you, then?” she demanded.  “At least, you have a right to your own name.”

“Nathan thought it would keep me out of trouble.”

“But it didn’t—did it?  I think you let him pimp you,” she declared.

“You’re right, Connie, but that hurt,” he pleaded.

“Sorry, James,” she answered.  “I should have kept it to myself.”

“You can call me Jamie from now on,” he answered.  “Sometimes the treatment hurts, but the patient is better-off in the long run.”

“Okay,” she said softly, and patted him on the thigh.  “I’m sorry if it hurt.” 

“Did you ever think of going into dentistry?” he joked. By that time, they were rounding the corner to Connie’s street.

“Stop it,” she laughed.  “You’ll get over it.”

He pulled into the driveway.

“C’mon in,” she said.  “I’ll make it up to you with a cup of coffee.”

“No thanks, I’m all set, Connie.”

“Tea, then?”

“I better not,” he answered.

“Oh,” she said, in a subdued voice.

She had a tear in her eye as she turned the lock and James backed down the driveway to head back to Bates.  “Too bad,” she sighed.

*********** 

“How do you think the class went tonight, Raymond?” James asked as they packed up their books.

“Fine!” Raymond answered.  “I think they’re getting it.”

“I think they’re becoming over-confident,” James answered.  “Let’s give them a pop quiz next week and bring them back to earth.  It’s too far away from the final exam to let them think they’re world-beaters, yet.”

They were distracted at that moment by a rap on the door.  James turned and saw Vicki standing there.  “I was hoping to talk to you for a minute or two,” Vicki said.

James turned to Raymond.  “Do you think you might be able to give me a few minutes?  I’ll find you when we’re done; it won’t be long.” 

“Sure thing,” Raymond answered as he picked up his books and headed out of the room.

“I knew you’d be here,” Vicki informed him.  “I drove in to be here when I thought your class would be getting out.”

“Good timing,” said James. 

“I haven’t seen you for a long time,” she said. “I hoped that we could be friends again.”

“I never thought that we stopped being friends, Vicki.”

“I know that I hurt you when I ended it,” she said.  “Sometimes I wish that I hadn’t.”

“It did hurt, but it was for the best,” James conceded.  “I would have kept chasing a rainbow with no end to it.  You did me a favor.”

“You’ve learned, James,” she replied.  “You wanted something from me that I couldn’t give you.  Abby told me you broke it off with her right after we split up.  She said you did it out of friendship for Bubba.  I was impressed.”

“You gave me friendship when no one else would,” James acknowledged.

“I wasn’t there when you really needed me, though, and I was sorry about that.  I should have called you.”

“Things have a way of working out,” James shrugged.

“Do you think that we’ll ever sleep together again?” Vicki asked.

“If that’s an invitation, thanks, but I think I have to say ‘no thank you’.  I’m thinking about someone else right now,” James said.

“Thinking—or doing?” Vicki asked, smiling.  “And it was an invitation.”

“I was out with her last weekend.  I think that she wanted me to make love to her then,” James answered.

“And you didn’t?” Vicki asked with surprise.  “That’s so unlike you, James.  It must be something special.”

“It would have been her first,” James answered.

“You’re full of surprises, James.”

“I should have taken her up on it,” James replied.  “I probably insulted her.  I just didn’t want to ruin things between us.  She’s very special to me.  I didn’t want to push her away.”

“James, you’re just being you,” Vicki scolded.  “Try to find out what she wants.  If she’s that special, you two will work it out.”

James nodded.  “I’ll think about that,” he said.

“So what do you think about Nathan getting promoted?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t want me to tell you,” he answered.

“I got a new job out of it, too,” Vicki said.  “District Personnel Manager.”

“I guess that congratulations are in order,” James said.

“Not really,” Vicki said.  “It’s just Nathan’s way of protecting me, and himself at the same time.”

“He once told me that he only trusted those that he had something on.”

“That would include me,” Vicki confessed.  “When I was a senior in college, I got pregnant.  There were problems; I had to drop out of school; the baby was stillborn.  I was a few credits short of my degree.  I lied on my application to get this job.  Nobody checked.  Nathan found out, but he protected me.  Now he wants me close so that no one will find out.”

“You never got over it,” James said.

“No, and it cost me a marriage years later,” she answered.

“You could have gone back and finished,” James said. 

“It was too risky,” she answered.  “What if someone found out and then asked how I was working as a teacher already?”

“Nathan’s a hard guy to figure out,” James said.  “Part of me won’t forgive him for firing me.  At the same time, he’s done some good things, or tried to.”

“He thinks a lot of you, James.  He told me to give you a message.  Nathan says the Department Chair job in the Math Department is yours next Fall if you want it.”

“I should be grateful,” James answered.  “Tell Nathan he should deliver his own messages, and then I’ll think about it.”

“It’s your call,” Vicki said.  “I’ll tell him.”

“Raymond’s waiting,” James reminded her.

“Then we’re friends?” Vicki asked.

“I would never stop being friends with you, Vicki.”

*************   

Every year, as Spring finally broke winter’s icy back, the priests would enjoy walking the grounds of the school.  There were the remains of snowdrifts in some places and emerging green in others.  Many times it was a respite in the midst of their Lenten deprivations.  The rebirth of the earth reminded them of the Pascal tide soon to be.

Jamie was ambling his way to the perimeter of the grounds for a stroll and, perhaps meditation.  “Walk wit’ me a bit, Jamie,” he heard a voice behind him.  He didn’t have to turn to know that it was Father Brendan calling him.

The two priests walked side-by-side, saying little, enjoying the weather.  A small creek bordered the grounds, forming one side of the perimeter.  A large willow tree had grown up on the bank, escaping the blade of whoever trimmed the area until it was too large to be easily hewn down.  It had become home to many birds.  As the two priests walked by the birds were filling the air with their singing.

“I was in m’ room dis mornin’—just havin’ risen,” Fr. Brendan told Jamie over the chirping.  “Ye know d’ere’s a tree b’side the residence—and a bird’s nest jist outside m’ window.”

“Have the eggs hatched yet, Father?” Jamie asked.

“Aye,” he replied patiently, “but let me get to m’ point.”  The old priest paused and slowed the pace of his walking.  Jamie grew impatient, but dared not interrupt again.

“The mother bird alit on the nest and gave one o’ the little chicks some food,” he finally resumed.  “The little fella’ ate what was given ’im, and d’en looked out o’er the edge o’ the nest.  He must not ’ave see what he wanted, so he leaned out a bit far’der and looked some more.  In a flash, the mother bird pushed the chick from the nest.”  Fr. Brendan paused again.  “Can ye imag’n th’ drama o’ the moment, boy?”

“It’s God’s creation at work,” Jamie answered.

“Quiet, boy, and listen,” his mentor scolded.

“It s’prised the chick at first.  I saw fear in ’is face.  He was fallin’, but sudd’ly started flappin’ his wings as fast and hard as ‘e could, and d’en flew away.  I’ll never see ‘im agin', but I’m happy fer ’im.”

“I imagine that his mother is, too,” Jamie added.  Father Brendan ignored him.

“I have to t’ink d’at God knew th’ bird would learn in d’at moment t’ fly,” Father Brendan said.

“No doubt,” Jamie agreed. 

“But what if th’ bird decided not t’ try, if  t’were his choice t’ flap er not?”

“But God gave the birds the instinct to fly,” Jamie answered.

Father Brendan stopped and faced Jamie, staring eye to eye.  “Exactly!  But what of us mortal humans wit’ free will?” he posed.  “If God knows the future, what of our free will?  And if God does not know—well, I don’t want t’ even t’ink of it.”

“It’s a mystery, Father,” Jamie answered.  “I don’t know the answer.”

“Either way, if we don’t believe in both, what’re we doin’ here, Jamie?”

“I never thought of that Father,” the protégé replied.

“Aye, a mystery t’is, and I don’t know th’ answer,” the teacher confessed to his charge.  “I t’ink about it often.  Th’ answer is farther from me now d’an when I was young, like you.  ”

They walked some more; Jamie struggled to recall the answer from his studies.

“D’ere is no answer, Jamie, at least not in d’is life.  We believe in both ’cause free will allows us t’ cast aside our doubts.”

*************** 

TO BE CONTINUED