The Blameless Bystander Ch. 15

"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 whimsically.

"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 explained.

"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 was, herself, so vulnerable. 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.

"My real name is Concetta Martino. My grandfather shortened it to Martin," a subdued voice arose from the sofa. James allowed the howling wind to answer her. "I wanted you to know everything," she said before closing her eyes.

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 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 afternoon after school. "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 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 return. 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 said 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, smiling.

"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."

"What do you think you want to study, then?" James queried.

"This job you gave me makes me want to be a Math teacher, too."

"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 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 this 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.

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 to make her point.

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

"He fired him 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 him because I thought that it was important to be unified for the good of the District."

"Let's not forget that O'Toole's 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."