The Blameless Bystander Ch. 15

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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 don't know," 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, continuing the repartee.

"Did they always call you James?" she asked, sensing that she had touched a nerve. "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.

"Did you ever think of going into dentistry?" he quipped. By that time, they were rounding the corner to Connie's street.

"Stop it," she joked back. "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 getting 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 of 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 snow 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. On this day they were singing loudly.

"I was in m' room dis mornin'—just havin' risen," Fr. Brendan told Jamie over the chirping. "Ye know d'ere's a tree beside 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 speak 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 the 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 the bird would learn in d'at moment t' fly," Father Brendan said.

"No doubt," Jamie agreed.

"But what if the 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 to 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 the answer," the teacher confessed to his charge. "I t'ink about it often."

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."

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TO BE CONTINUED...

Dear Readers,

Thanks for reading. I look forward to your questions and comments.

AW