The Blameless Bystander Ch. 09

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm really grateful to you for going along with this every three months," Nathan continued.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***********

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

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

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

"One of my female students confided with me that she's pregnant." James revealed.

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

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

"Right!" Vicki agreed.

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

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

"Well...," James began to explain.

"James, what did you do?" Vicki was alarmed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"There's something else that I need to tell you," James broke the short silence.

"You're full of news tonight," Vicki quipped from the passenger's seat.

"Well...uh...I don't know how to tell you this, Vicki," he began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I had no idea, Nathan," Vicki whispered. "I'm so sorry!"

"Yes, I see," Nathan quietly answered Vicki. He turned to James. "Well, James, now you know. You see—we all have our own secrets."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I think that we'll be going," Nathan announced, and the two turned and left.

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

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

"I should have listened," James admitted. "I promise that I'll never tell anyone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mavis Holcomb, 283 Washington Street," she enunciated. She lowered her eyes to a three by five card from which she read her statement. "Pe-do-philes are a danger to our children. We should get all of them out of our schools." She about-faced and returned to her seat.

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

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

Bob Jackson interrupted. "Ma'am," he said, "you'll have to speak up. Not everyone can hear you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ethan rose again. "This is collusion!" he shouted.

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

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

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

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

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

"It's James O'Toole!" a voice called loudly from the teachers' group in the back of the room. In fact, it was Doris, James' colleague, but no one was sure who said it.

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

Ethan turned to face his followers. "James O'Toole—James O'Toole!" they chanted.

"We've done it! We've done it!" Ethan cried, raising his fists into the air.

An anonymous man could be heard shouting over the din, "Who is James O'Toole?"

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

TO BE CONTINUED

Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading. I hope you've enjoyed the story so far. I'm always interested in your comments and questions. I answer all of them that furnish a reply address.