Till Death (27 page)

“You took advantage of me!”

“I was drunk.”

“You can’t tell me those moves you made toward me were not your complete responsibility.”

“What can I say? I was drunk!”

“You were like a combination of a raging bull and a drowning man. You wanted me! You wanted me desperately! You can’t deny that.”

“It’s not a matter of denial or affirmation. You were undressing me. I was aroused. What I did an animal would do. I wasn’t acting rationally. I wasn’t even acting humanly. I admit all this freely. And I want to apologize and get on with life.” He lit a cigarette. This was becoming his worst-case scenario. He had to get things down to a more basic level. “Dora, you are a beautiful person.”

“Nobody should know that better than you.”

He almost laughed. It was a funny line. But not in this context. “Dora, I’ve known you very well for a very long time. I know you are a beautiful person, inside and out. Don’t you think it’s time for you to get a life?”

She glowered at him.

“There’s nothing for us in this. I am a priest. I intend to be a priest till the end of my days. We can’t get married. You know that.”

“Who said anything about marriage?”

That set him back on his heels. Two women. Neither knowing about his relationship with the other. It was the stuff from which French bedroom farce was made. He inhaled deeply. In a few moments smoke came cascading from his nostrils. “I was hoping … friends,” he murmured.

“Friends!” she snorted. “Is this the way you treat your friends? Strip them and screw them?”

His hands were trembling slightly. He hoped she hadn’t noticed. “Maybe …” he offered tentatively, “… maybe we are just too close to this thing. It was just the other night. Maybe we have to give this incident time.”

She cocked her head to one side. “How much time?”

He sensed a tone of conciliation in her voice. He clung to it like a life preserver. “I don’t know, Dora. Just give it a period to breathe. Maybe if we think and pray over it, a solution will occur.”

Her expression was noncommittal. “Can you deny you found me attractive?”

He shook his head slowly, sincerely. “No, Dora. You are most attractive. That’s why I suggested you select someone more eligible than me—”

Anger flashed. “It sounds like your mind is made up way before we try your suggestion to keep an open mind!”

“Sorry … sorry. You’re right. We go slowly. Okay?”

She stood. From the look on her face it did not appear that she was about to consider life without Rick. She moved toward him as if for a kiss good-bye. Then, having thought again, she turned on her heel and walked away.

As she did so he could not help but notice how her hips undulated. Then he forcefully looked away. In the situation he was in, admiring her physical beauty was not moving in the right direction.

Outside the rectory, Dora sat in her car. She had not started the motor. She just sat and thought.

She hadn’t planned it this way. When she arrived for the meeting some hours ago, she had half anticipated something romantic might develop for Rick and her. So, instead of parking in the church lot, she’d pulled into an empty space on the street. She didn’t want to chance having her car be the only one left in the lot for … what? The night?

By happenstance she had parked equidistant from two streetlights. The light from neither reached her vehicle. Thus, in the dark she was practically invisible.

Just two nights ago the incident she would never forget had occurred. She could see the garage. She had parked at the entrance of one of the doors. She had helped him into the house and up the stairs.

Was it God’s will? Of course. She’d had no plans. Certainly no plans for what had happened. She was only trying to help someone in need. That someone happened to be the man she had long loved.

It probably was not his fault either. Admittedly he had been seriously drunk. Just as he claimed.

It was God’s will.

But how would she be able to demonstrate this to Rick’s satisfaction?

She placed the key in the ignition. She was about to start the car when she hesitated.

The garage door opened, turning on the inside light.

Rick, in civvies, got into his car. He backed out, the light disappearing, as the garage door slowly came down behind the car.

She made an instantaneous decision. As he drove down Outer Drive toward Gratiot, she followed at a discreet distance.

She’d seen this done countless times in the movies. The object was to stay in the traffic’s flow but not so closely as to arouse suspicion. She was amazed at how easy it was. The fact there was not much traffic helped. She felt she was succeeding. Rick made no effort to lose her.

She followed his car into the parking lot of a huge apartment complex in the city of Warren. She parked as far away as possible while still keeping him in view.

He entered the building. She waited. He did not emerge.

Carefully—ready to turn and retreat if necessary—she entered the same lobby he had.

There were mail slots with name tags. She scanned them as quickly as possible. No box for him. But …“Niedermier L-103.”

Metaphorical scales fell from her eyes. Things were so much more clear now.

“It’s not fair. All you have to do is lie there!”

All sorts of retorts occurred to Lil Niedermier. One thing was certain: This was not a recommended way of healing a quarrel.

They had been at odds for only a couple of days. But it was a bitter separation. Perhaps it had not been an inspired decision to attempt lovemaking at their first opportunity.

She quickly resolved to be as conciliatory as possible. She would not respond to his rebuke. Both she and Rick knew well that she could participate in lovemaking as actively as he. It would help though if she were invited to play.

She didn’t anticipate any long-term problem. She was far more concerned over the cause of his impotence.

He had seemed in such high spirits when they had talked on the phone this afternoon. He was clearly happy that she had taken the initiative in patching up their squabble. He wanted nothing more than reconciliation.

Between then and now something had happened. If she could learn what had upset the applecart, she might be able to help him. “Just because this has never happened to us before doesn’t mean it’s abnormal in any way. There’s probably a reason.”

He didn’t respond.

“Everything was fine,” she went on, seeming to ignore his silence, “when we talked this afternoon. The only thing you had scheduled was the Catechetical Committee meeting. And that was more or less a party. Was there anything else that happened that could have upset you …?”

Still he didn’t respond. She left the question dangling.

“The last thing I need,” he said at last, “is to put my day under a microscope. I don’t know what happened. I guess I’m distracted.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No! Definitely not.”

“Okay. Let’s talk about the Ursula get-together. What did you think of it?”

He couldn’t bring himself to confess that, even though he had participated in the conversation, he couldn’t remember much of what had gone on. “I think that might have been the last of those reunions.” He was glad to change the subject.

“You think there won’t be any more Ursula meetings? Why not? Not enough of the gang attending?”

“Yeah. That, plus the fact that the whole purpose is history. It was foresighted of Bob Koesler to start the thing. There were walking wounded shot up by Father Angelico. They needed strength to complete their assignments there and emerge in one piece. Even after they—we—moved on, the scars needed TLC. But that’s all gone now. Angelico’s gone. The school’s gone. The parishioners are gone. Hell, the whole damn parish is gone!”

He sighed. “Even our memories of the place are softened by now. We don’t talk about the Ursula experience anymore. It’s just a debating society of—what else?—conservatives and liberals. Guys and gals who want to live either before or after Vatican Two.”

“In one corner,” she agreed, “there’s Father Harry Morgan …”

“And in the other corner,” he completed, “everybody else.”

“As time goes on,” she said thoughtfully, “there are fewer and fewer who can remember personally what the Church was about before the Council. That Church is becoming just part of Church history.”

“Like everything else today. You, as a Catholic school principal, must bump into this all the time.”

“Sure,” she affirmed. “If it happened before today’s kids and young adults, as far as they’re concerned it didn’t happen.”

They laughed. It was their first light and bright moment of the evening. It felt good.

They were still chuckling when Lil touched Rick’s cheek. He tipped his head to trap her hand. It was not a particularly erotic gesture on either part. Yet, suddenly, both were aroused. Slowly, lingeringly, tenderly, they made love.

Pleasantly relaxed, Rick lay on his back, cradling Lil’s head in the crook of his shoulder. Whereas previously he had been angry and distant, now he was at peace with the world. At peace even with Dora.

“Honey …” His voice was low, husky, postcoital. “… school’s over for you now, right?”

The question came out of nowhere. It took her a moment to return to the present. “Well, yeah … I guess so. Tomorrow the eighth-graders graduate and summer vacation begins. Yes, tomorrow is the last day of school. What brought that up?”

“I was just thinking: I’ve got a vacation coming. And you’ll be starting yours. What do you say we go someplace?”

Lil sat up. “Do you think we could? I mean, is there somewhere we could go and not worry about being recognized? It sounds wonderful.”

There she goes again: Worried out of her skull about being found out! He was certain they didn’t need to be all that concerned. But … there was no sense spending what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation looking over one’s shoulder for the Grand Inquisitor’s secret police.

Wait a minute! Now he was climbing into a boat similar to Lil’s. She was conscious of and nervous about everyone. And now he had become conscious of and nervous about Dora. Why else was he proposing this vacation? Why did it have to be now? Why couldn’t it wait for even a week or so?

During a brief period of sexual delight he had forgotten all his troubles, even Dora. Now he was back in the land of reality. His going away might just give Dora an opportunity to put things in perspective. All she had to realize was that she’d had intercourse with a drunk. The sex had been fueled by the alcohol that had removed all sense of restraint, not to mention awareness.

He wanted this vacation as an escape. And, for the first time, he wanted anonymity as much as or more than Lil did. “Someplace we could go and not be recognized,” he repeated. “How about Tom Becker’s cottage? You know, the one on Old Mission Peninsula in Traverse City. It would be a miracle in reverse for anyone to recognize us there. The place is self-sufficient. All we’d have to go out for would be groceries. We don’t have to do that together. What say a month—more if we need it?”

Her eyes were aglow. As if she were a child at Christmas.

Just as suddenly she grew serious. “I forgot about closing up—the school, I mean.”

“Tomorrow is the last day! You already said that.”

“I know. It’s the last day and graduation. But there’s paperwork to finish. It has to be done.”

“But you don’t have to be the one to do it. What about your assistant principal? You’re always bragging about how efficient she is. Why not let her take this responsibility? It’ll be good for her.” Rick believed about three-quarters of what he was giving Lil as reassurance.

She twisted a lock of her hair. “I could do that.” Pause. “But what about you? You can’t just up and leave your parish.”

“I’ve got that Basilian priest from Assumption University in Windsor. He lives in a houseful of priest-teachers. I can leave the parish in the capable hands of Father Chircop and never look back. Whattya say, kid? How about a little R and R? We’ve earned it.”

“Oh yes, darling. When can we leave?”

“I’ll just check with Tom and make sure the cottage is vacant. I’ll call him now.”

Rick got a reply on the third ring. Lil could tell by the growing smile on his face that the place was theirs.

She, of the two, always was the cautious one. It was a kick to be spontaneous for a change.

Things looked dark. But Dora was not about to give up.

She knew she would make Rick a good wife. And she’d be an excellent mother to his kids.
Their
kids.

Okay. So he had been under the weather the other night. Still, they had given themselves to each other with abandon. It would not be burdensome to engage in wild, steamy sex whenever they felt the urge. Why would he turn all that away? Why would he reject her? Her offer was on her part unconditional.

She thought she might have unearthed the core problem. It well could be Lillian Niedermier. If this were so, she, Dora, had been blind-sided.

Lillian! That sweet young thing! She too had served at St. Ursula’s. But her life there had never touched that of Father Casserly. They were ships that never even passed in the night.

Was he actually shacking up with her? Dora didn’t want to jump to conclusions. All she knew for certain was that after their tiff Rick left his rectory. He drove to a large apartment complex in Warren. He entered a building that did not list him as an occupant. But it did list an L. Niedermier. Coincidence?

It stretched credulity.

If Rick and Lil were living together without benefit of clergy, that would explain a lot.

Prescinding for the moment Rick’s being a priest, he could qualify as one of the Detroit area’s most eligible bachelors. All right, so he’s sixty. He looks and acts anything from twenty to thirty years younger. He’s a very successful priest. Whether it comes to raising money or giving spiritual direction, it would be nearly impossible to top him. Is he goodlooking? Some people improve with age. Rick certainly started handsome and got better. He must have had a bevy of women throw themselves at him.