The Blameless Bystander Ch. 16

When she asked him that way it made Jamie want to tell her everything. When he told her little things, she understood how he felt about big things. She possessed the key to him and he willingly allowed her to turn the lock. "For one thing, I went to see Father Brendan yesterday. He's very sick; it's only a matter of time."

"It was good of you to go to see him."

"It would have been, if I had done it for him. I actually went for myself," he admitted. "I went to say my confession to him."

"It was a big step, Jamie."

"Yes," he answered. "It was less difficult than I once envisioned. I finally realized that I was never blameless, as I once believed. I thought it raised me on a pedestal and I wanted to stay there. There were some who refused to acknowledge it, and I was bitter. When I fell, I saw that no one noticed. It was the same as not existing. I was wrong."

"I knew this would come about one day," she said. "I thought it would be a longer time. Something must have happened."

"It was when you asked me in for coffee last Saturday. I wanted to come in, but I turned you down. I asked myself why; at first I couldn't find the answer."

"But you finally figured it out?"

"It would have ruined everything between us," he answered. "I couldn't bring you down to my level. I needed to be clean again, to belong once more—to not be ashamed of what's deep inside me."

"But I am not blameless," Connie said. "I have much to confess, and I do."

"That's true," Jamie replied, "but you have no arrogance of the soul, as I did."

"Was Father Brendan hard on you?" she asked, her happy mood returning.

"Yes," Jamie replied, "and he gave me a penance that I'll never forget." He told her of his visit to Ethan's house.

"That was some penance," Connie acknowledged. "He must be a very special man."

"He truly is," Jamie replied. "I'm going to miss him. I think that he's taking his death better than I am. He told me to bring him back some whiskey, or not to bother coming back at all."

Connie burst into laughter at hearing the story. "I'd like to meet this man," she said, and then turned serious. "And so, the confession gave you what you sought from it?"

"Yes, it did," Jamie admitted.

"Then, what did you have on your mind that spoiled your appetite?" she demanded.

"That's one thing I love about you, Connie," he answered. "You always see right through me."

Jamie saw her face, framed by the candlelight as she leaned closer, her stare sounded his depths. "Tell me, sir," she asked, "what else do you love about me?"

Jamie heart skipped a beat at the moment of truth. He knew the words, but not how to say them. He knew he had to say them. He wanted them to sound just right. He feared disappointing her with inadequacy, but he was no poet. He just blurted them out.

"Connie, I love everything about you."

Her eyes watered, as she heard the words. The tears glistened in the flames' reflections. She didn't move, spoke plainly, without hesitation. "I love you, too, Jamie."

They were the words that he'd hoped for, sounding sweet, as he imagined. He discarded the notion of rising from the table to make a romantic gesture. Such fakery would have sacrileged the honesty of the moment, and of her.

"I was hoping that you'd say that," he said.

"Then, you're going to stay for coffee this time?" she asked.

Jamie noticed her trembling as she waited for his answer. She must have known what it would be. He covered her hand with his. "I never drink it in the evening, but I'd like some in the morning."

"I'm too old to be seduced, Jamie."

"I wasn't too old," he replied. "I was seduced more than once, and not just by lovers. I just went along with whatever happened. I knew that I would never seduce you, but it's not about age. If you ever came to me, it would be of your own free will."

"It is, Jamie, but I'm as nervous as a schoolgirl," she pleaded. "Will you show me what I have to know?"

"I'll show you some things," he promised. "You'll show me some others."

***********

"Give me a few minutes, and then come upstairs," she bade him as she made her way to the stairway.

Jamie poured out the last of the wine and sat in the living room trying to relax. It wasn't easy to do. He had never even kissed the woman he was preparing to introduce to physical love. In all his past encounters, he had always been the least experienced.

"What does it matter," he thought as he emptied the glass. "It's new for both of us.

When he arrived at the top of the stairs all was dark, except for a lamp glowing from inside Connie's bedroom. He walked slowly in; she sat in bed waiting for him. She had propped the pillows behind her back, pulled the covers up to her chin. She didn't say a word as he undressed. He stripped off all his clothes, except his boxers and slowly approached the bed.

Her hands lowered as he approached, allowing the covers to pile at her waist. She wore a negligee made of white satin. He saw her breasts, cradled in the shiny cloth. The tops of them showed over the top of the bodice. Her nipples pressed an outline in the fabric. "Wait, let me show you," she whispered.

She pulled the covers aside, reclining against the pillows. Her gown was full length. Only her feet showed below the hem. Her form pressed against the satin. He had never contemplated the features of her body. It was fit and trim, if not seductive, with ample, but not oversized, breasts. She smiled demurely at him.

"Do you like it? I bought it last night, hoping that things would work out for us."

"I'm glad that you did," he answered. "It's a beautiful gown with you in it." He began to reach his hands out to begin disrobing her, but she stopped him.

"Let me see it," she begged, her eyes glued to his groin. He understood what she wanted and pulled the waistband of his boxers over his erection, letting let them fall to his feet. She gazed at it for several moments. Jamie was fully erected; the fluid of anticipation leaked out in viscous droplets. "I'm ready," she said, and reached over her head to switch off the lamp.

"Wait," Jamie stopped her. "Let me see." He stepped forward, and pushed down the thin straps from her shoulders. He peeled the gown away from her breasts, letting them drape naturally on her chest. He placed his hands on them and softly stroked them down from the tops and up from underneath. His thumbs caressed the nipples. He felt pleasure as she purred at the new sensation.

He leaned down and kissed each hardened bud. She took his penis in her hand. He kissed her on the lips. At first, she was unsure how to kiss back, but learned it quickly. When the kiss was done, he tugged the gown some more. She lifted her hips to assist him in removing it. She was revealed, as he was. He beheld the sight, promising himself to never forget it.

Jamie reached over her head to turn out the light. Connie slid down to lie on her back as Jamie joined her on the bed. He wanted to give her many pleasures; she opened herself to them. They were embracing, touching, pleasuring, and allowing desire to grow. They took their time; neither counted the minutes.

Jamie sensed that they were ready. He gently pressed the inside of her thigh. She knew what he meant and opened them wide. He placed himself between them and he bent low to kiss her once again. His penis pressed her at the juncture of her spread legs; the soft, warm flesh of her breasts pressed up against the skin of his chest.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"I think so."

Jamie shifted his weight to his elbows. "Bend your knees up," he advised. As she did the end of him slipped slightly between her moist lips. She breathed harder; final joining was close at hand. Jamie pressed forward just a little. She sucked in a breath.

"Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

"It didn't hurt. I'm fine. It's just that I know it's really happening."

"We'll go slow," Jamie assured her. He pressed in some more. He was about half way inside her.

"It's so full, Jamie," she breathed up at him.

"We'll wait while you get used to it," he said.

"No, now!" she cried as she thrust her pelvis up at him and he slid all the way into her. She paused when he completed the journey. "Oh, Jamie—this is so good!" she panted.

Jamie withdrew and thrust forward again. She pushed herself up to meet him. Each time they repeated the motion, their pleasure grew. She cried out in climax. As she finished, he allowed himself to release into her. He stayed inside until he softened, and then dismounted her and they lay embracing side by side. Soon they fell asleep She had given her whole self to him, and he returned the same. It would always be that way.

When Jamie woke in the morning Connie was already smiling down at him as she propped herself on her elbows. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"I feel wonderful; you were wonderful. I want to make love to you again."

They did, and then arose and went to Connie's church where they took Communion together. Afterward, they returned to her house for breakfast and made love again until the next morning.

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

Jamie was a bundle of nerves as he drove the ninety miles to Salamanca. Of the scores of resumes that he had sent out, it was the only interview granted so far and it was a job that he really wanted. Winter was giving way to spring. The forests were enjoying their annual rebirth. He hoped for a rebirth of his career.

He could, of course, go to Nathan and reclaim his old job. If Nathan had called him, he would probably have accepted. There had been no call. Jamie reasoned that Nathan was waiting to see if the remedial classes would be successful. Nathan wouldn't risk hitching his wagon to a falling star.

Jamie knew, too, that the High School was in more trouble than the small corner of it that he knew. For one thing, he heard that Henry Thompson had resigned as of the end of the school year. Vicki would be moving over to take her new job at the District, so they would be short an English teacher. Tracey mentioned that she had decided to look elsewhere, too.

With Bob Jackson's departure, the bond issue was never brought forward, so the new school roof was put off for another year. To make matters worse, the Teachers' Union contract was up for renewal. Ed Cassidy was under pressure to negotiate some big raises. As Jamie thought about it, he had to reluctantly feel sorry for Nathan, having found a bag of snakes in his executive chair.

Jamie snapped back to the task at hand as he guided his car into a visitors' space in the parking lot.

"Welcome, Mr. O'Toole," the receptionist greeted him. "There's a little room just over there for your boots and overcoat, and a restroom just down the hall. When you're ready I'll take you to the Council Room."

When he returned she guided him to a large meeting room, centered by a long, polished, wooden table. "You're just a little bit early. Have a seat on this side of the table. You will be meeting with three members of the Council. "Brant Russell, the President of the Council will be here. He'll introduce the others."

Jamie sat nervously awaiting the entry of his questioners. He was tempted to walk around and peruse the plaques and certificates dotting the walls of the room. He thought better of it and pulled his resume from his briefcase to review it. He still wasn't sure how he would handle the questions about all the rumors that were damaging his reputation. They were sure to come up before the interview was over.

Without warning, the door by which Jamie entered swung open. A man, followed by two women, entered and walked single file to their places on the opposite side of the table. The man took the center chair, flanked by the women. Jamie rose as they paraded by; no one said a word until each stood at their assigned spots.

"I'm Brant Russell; I am President of the Council," said the leader, extending a hand. Jamie reached out and grasped it. "With me are two Council members, Sheila Morningstar and Catherine Gibson. Mrs. Gibson is the High School Principal." Jamie shook their hands as well.

Russell was not tall, but square shouldered and barrel-chested. His copper-skinned face was craggy with the experience of his fifty-eight years. His hair was peppered in grey and braided down his back in the Indian style.

"Thank you for coming all this way, Mr. O'Toole," Russell began. "There are nine Council members. We are appointed as the Search Committee. We already know your background. I think we can skip the preliminaries and get right to the heart of what we need to talk about."

"I'm ready to answer your questions," Jamie replied.

"For starters," Russell began, "tell us why you wish to be the Chair of the Math Department at our Reservation School."

"I want to teach students who are serious about learning," Jamie answered. "Math is a gateway to bigger things for students. Many think they can't do it. I know how to make it happen for them, if they want it."

"We want our students to get accepted at the better colleges," Principal Gibson said. She was roughly Jamie's age, a long, slender woman, who eyed him through thick-lensed glasses. Her black hair would have fallen to her shoulders, if not tied back.

"If Math is the issue, it can be resolved over time. Math isn't only for the very best students," Jamie continued. "All students need it in a form that will suit them in whatever walk of life they choose." Jamie expounded at length on his methods and how he would implement his program. He was comfortable talking about it and he could see that he had their attention.

"Tell us about your episode with the pregnant girl," Sheila Morningstar suddenly insisted without warning. She was a heavy-set woman with a kind face, a Native American, in her late fifties, or perhaps her sixties.

"I did what I thought was right. I had little time to think it over. The girl was lost and alone. I felt compassion for her. I guess that's what drove me to do what I did."

"You risked your job to help a girl whose father hated you?" his inquisitor pressed on.

Jamie heard the door open in the back of the room. He dared not turn to look, for fear of appearing evasive to the question. "I was in a certain place in a certain moment. Other teachers would have done the same; I'm sure of it."

"But her father did so much to hurt you..." she insisted.

"I didn't think of it then. I don't think it should have made a difference," Jamie answered. "I've since made my peace with her father."

"My question is whether you'd do the same for an Indian girl," Russell interjected.

"I hope that I would," Jamie answered. "Who's to say? I once thought that right and wrong were adjustable according to the situation. It was confusing and I was afraid to face it. I was wrong and I've learned not to fear it."

"Then, what are you afraid of?" Russell demanded.

"Forgetting what I've learned," Jamie shot back without hesitation. "And not learning more," he quickly added. Brant Russell sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

"A good answer," he declared, as he nodded to the others. "You should know that your answer does not surprise us."

"I don't understand," Jamie said. He was wondering why the committee knew so much about him.

"One of our people has told us your story and recommended you," Russell said as he pointed to the back of the room. "Henry Thompson will be joining us as Assistant Principal in September."

Jamie swiveled his head to the back of the room. It had been Henry who had entered in the middle of his interview. "Hello, James," he called out from the back of the room.

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

Bowling season was wrapping up. Jamie's average was up to one-sixty-five. He looked forward to the camaraderie each Thursday night. Bubba was making it about half the time. Abby had not been with him since the night she tried to force him back to her bed. Jamie wondered about it, but thought not to bring it up.

After the bowling match Jamie and Bubba stayed behind for a few beers. Bubba was always congenial, but on this occasion he was in an especially good mood.

"I was thinkin' of askin' ya to go down South with me on the truck this summer, Jamie," he said before gulping the remnants of his beer. "'Had to change my mind, though."

"You're not going to tell my why until I ask you," Jamie joked. "Am I right?"

"That ya are, Jamie. So, are ya askin'?"

"I guess I am," Jamie replied.

"Abby's goin' with me instead," Bubba beamed proudly. "I'll miss havin' ya with me, but cha' understand..."

"I think it's great, Bubba."

"Abby told me the whole story," Bubba said. "We had it out big-time one night, and this is what came of it."

"Sounds like a good result," Jamie said.

"Of course, she won't be able to work on the loadin' and unloadin' like you could, but she can do other things." Bubba started grinning.

"She won't go for the cigar smoke, either," Jamie warned.

"I know; I know," Bubba grumbled.

"Are you ready for another one?" Jamie held up two fingers to signal the bartender.

"If you had gone with Abby like she wanted you to, none of this would have ever come about. You could have, Jamie. I told you to go ahead—but you didn't. You did it for me; you're a real friend."

When the beers arrived Jamie lifted his glass to Bubba's. "Here's to you, Bubba. I wish you and Abby all the best." They both took a big swallow.

"It's the best eleven hundred I ever spent!" Bubba cried and dissolved into laughter as he slapped Jamie on the back.

"Are you and Abby going to use the sleeper cab?" Jamie asked.

"Sure, why not?" he answered.

"You better put some heavy duty springs on her, that's all I can say," Jamie answered."

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

When Easter Sunday arrived in the valley, it was accompanied by rain and sleet. Balmy weather didn't emerge until two weeks later. It suited Ethan's purpose because he had chosen that day for the "Laying on of Hands".

He was nearly ready to make the short walk from the manse to the grey, stone church. Before he left he stopped at the medicine chest for some aspirin.

He was getting headaches often in those days. They came on especially strong after his visit to Tracey's house, where she swooned under him as he approached her for anointing. He felt her enraptured body crumple on the floor waiting to receive him.

He was certain that the headaches were from the special energy he received from the anointing. It was spinning in his brain, and if that caused the pain he was willing to accept it. The pain brought its gift. As the throbbing would depart, he had revelations. The more intense the pain, the clearer was the vision. He began to look forward to the agony. It was an earthly matter; the visions were not.

As he neared the granite steps of the church he saw the congregation filtering in. There were many with wheelchairs and crutches; some were bent over, most were old and had forsaken hope of healing. They just hoped for recognition as a suffering being and comfort where they could find it. They cried out in greeting as Ethan passed by.

He would have liked to pause and talk with them but he spied Jarrod standing at the large doorway. There was a young man standing with him. Jarrod had been distant lately and Ethan couldn't figure out why. This service was sure to get the congregation excited again. That and the spring weather would fill up the pews anew, which is what Jarrod always liked.

As Jarrod saw Ethan marching up the steps toward him he shrank further backwards into the vestibule and the young man disappeared with him. Ethan found them in a dark corner near the stairway that led to the choir loft.

"It's a fine day, Jarrod."

"Ethan, just keep this nice and simple. We don't need any incidents," Jarrod warned.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ethan replied. "Why do you speak to me in that tone, Jarrod?"