He remembered the frenzy in bed … then the lights went out again. Everything after an ungainly intercourse was blacked out. Everything until he’d awakened with a start minutes ago.
Feelings of embarrassment assaulted him from every angle.
He was embarrassed that he had so badly lost control of himself and drunk so irresponsibly. It was likely that only Zack, Bob, and Dora knew how very bad the situation was. Casserly was certain that the two priests would keep the incident to themselves. Undoubtedly they had helped a drunk more than once. Possibly even a drunken priest. Besides, they were men used to keeping secrets and confidences.
Dora, the central character in last night’s fiasco, was an X factor.
Good Lord, he thought, if his alcohol-saturated memory could be trusted, he’d had intercourse with her! There was no way that animal response could be called lovemaking.
He knew, principally from counseling and listening to confessions, as well as from books and movies and TV, that what had happened between them last night would have a far more potent effect on Dora than on him.
He could feel bad that it had happened. He also could put it out of his mind fairly soon and more or less completely. It could become no more than a lascivious memory—something developed into a fantasy.
He couldn’t totally understand all that this sexual activity could mean for Dora. He would have to be a woman to comprehend that. All he knew—and of this he was certain—was that it had meant, would mean, more, much more, to her than to him.
He considered the event no more than a drunken mistake. She probably would view it as at least the beginning of a commitment.
And that led to the source of his third embarrassment: Lil.
She must have left with the others. So she couldn’t have known how falling-down drunk he’d been. Above all, she wouldn’t know about Dora.
He had reassured Lil time and again that they were married in every sense except for some official paperwork. Either he had been kidding himself and her, or he was serious.
And if he was serious, he had just committed adultery.
Lots of times he had counseled married people who had strayed and were repentant, truly sorry for it. And always he had counseled them not to confess to the spouse. Telling what happened would more than likely open a can of worms that might better be buried.
Now, for the first time, he was challenged by the same choice.
To top it off, he had the mother of all headaches.
There was no alternative than to tough out this indisposition and face the music.
The last time he’d been with Lil, she had been mad as hell at him. She didn’t know it, but she had an even better reason for anger now. She probably figured that his absence from their apartment was merely a continuation of their quarrel. Fine. Let her continue thinking this. They would be getting together eventually.
Better to have her on the back burner and try to get a handle on how Dora was going to react to last night.
Seventeen
As it turned out, Thursday, mercifully, was a nothing day. Casserly spent the hours nursing this gigantic hangover and fearing that anyone—especially Lil or Dora—might call.
The telephone didn’t ring all day. A small miracle for which he was duly grateful.
Friday was something else again. At any rate, it was something that made him grateful for Thursday.
Friday opened the gates to the little rabbit punches of life.
The janitor reported on the church roofing. It was deteriorating with great dispatch. Casserly assured him that help was on the way. Even as they spoke, the geniuses downtown were debating funding.
He didn’t tell the janitor that Tom Becker had volunteered to finance the fix-up. Casserly had dissuaded his friend from doing so. Were Becker to underwrite the project he would be dragged inexorably into endless repairs and rebuilding.
Far more important to Rick now was this evening’s meeting of the Catechetical Committee. Dora Riccardo, always faithful to these meetings, would surely be present. This would be their first face-to-face since Wednesday night’s debacle. He was not looking forward to the encounter.
While trying to think of how he might relate to Dora after what had happened, the phone rang. He was about to let the answering service pick up, then had second thoughts. He recognized the voice immediately. It was Lil. And she knew it was he.
He lit a cigarette, then coughed. After a hiatus of some twenty-five years, he was smoking again! He promised himself that the recidivism would be temporary—just till he was able to work through this crisis.
Lil identified the sound of his inhaling. It caused her mixed emotions. She was angry that he had returned to the habit that could shorten his life. And she felt guilty that she might have caused this backsliding.
“Lil,” he said with warmth and genuine relief, “it’s good to hear your voice.” They had been apart only a day but, considering how they had parted in rancor, it was a long time.
“I was beginning,” she said, “to think you were going to be stubborn and not call. So I decided to break the ice.” After a short pause, she continued. “Right off the start, I want to apologize for what I said. You don’t need that kind of pressure. Wanna make up?”
He smiled. “Making up is fun.”
“Tonight?”
“I’ve got that Catechetical meeting tonight, honey. After that I’ll be where I want to be—with you.”
“The world seems better now, doesn’t it? We … I have to focus on how lucky we are having each other. No more negatives. Okay?”
“Definitely okay.”
They hung up.
He blew smoke rings. It’s like riding a bike, he thought; the ability comes right back to you. He would smoke this cigarette down to its bitter end—literally—for the sole reason that cigs cost so very much more than they did when last he’d had the habit.
He knew that Lil could tell he’d taken it up again. She’d said nothing. Which probably meant that she had unilaterally declared a cease-fire.
He cautioned himself not to become too addicted to the weed. He did intend to quit again as soon as this mess got straightened around.
And when would that be? As soon as he possibly could arrange it. And that would depend on what needed to be done about Dora. He had neither seen nor talked to her since … well since, through a foggy memory, he saw her naked.
Maybe he could smooth the waters and settle the matter tonight. For that he hoped. And for that he prayed.
It was a party more than a meeting. The catechism program was over for the summer. The catechists were celebrating a successful year. A few routine business matters were brought to meaningless votes. Chicken salad and coffee were served. Conversation was light. The teachers exchanged anecdotes about some of the funnier doings and sayings of the students.
As often as Father Casserly glanced at Dora Riccardo, she was beaming at him with the adoration of Nancy Reagan. That would have to stop. Anyone who cared to could surmise something was going on, at least from Dora to Rick.
The gathering broke up early. People began leaving about eight-thirty. Casserly did not encourage dawdling. By nine o’clock everyone had left but Dora and Rick.
Neither said anything. There was an awkward pause. “About the other night …” Rick began but did not finish. He hoped to throw the verbal ball into her court.
She said nothing.
So he continued. “I want to apologize. I’m ashamed of my behavior. I ask your forgiveness.”
Dora said nothing. But her eyes narrowed and seemed to cloud over.
“Look, Dora, I was totally irresponsible. I got drunk. You helped me. I am grateful. It got out of hand. For that, I’m sorry”
“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 H
arry 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?
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