I bit my tongue again before responding, merely asking, “Is he being fired?”
“I’m just a concerned parent,” she said, turning and waltzing away.
I felt myself screaming inside and feeling so helpless. I knew she’d shared her concerns. I knew the pull she had in this town. Every small town has someone like her. Telling myself not to freak the fuck out, I went back to my car, pulling out my phone to search the kind of contracts she talked about, and specifically morality clauses. Maybe she invented this whole thing, blowing it out of proportion. I doubted such a thing even exists in New York City—everyone would get fired.
But then, pages and pages of results appeared. Story after story of Catholic school teachers being fired because they’re gay, advocated contraception, or even because they had IVF for infertility. My mind was racing faster than my internet speed could upload the articles. I felt my legs start to tremble. Rorke never mentioned this clause to me. Did he not know about it? It’s very possible he just signed his contract each year without reading it.
I hated that people I love could be hurt because of me. That’s already been determined. The casualties from my career choice were adding up fast. Rorke couldn’t be another one. Not after his father just died. Not with his mother in such a fragile place. Not with the farm on the ropes. He couldn’t lose his job because of me. I couldn’t let that happen. Teaching was his “calling”—he’d said so. It’s his livelihood, too. I knew he couldn’t stand having me support us, even for a little while.
Call it panic. Call it fear. I just wanted to protect him. And not get in a big discussion about it, knowing he’d try to change my mind. I looked out on the field, hearing his voice, but unable to see him. Then I went back to his Jeep, removed the note I left for him, and walked away.
I said goodbye to my parents and left town—certain it would be better for Rorke in the long run. It’s definitely not better for me. The tears and bags under my eyes have proven it. I even left my car behind, knowing the solitude of driving all the way back to New York would not have been good for my mind.
Sure, I could’ve sold my company, chosen love over career, but I doubted it would matter to the likes of Mrs. Quaid. And Rorke would’ve been married to someone who earned her money hocking sex toys for a living.
Maybe I was just meant to be alone. After all, I’ve been pretty good at it in the past.
*
I look up into his blue eyes, having now filled in the missing pieces of my lie, and start to babble in a pace that’s frantic even for me. “The morality clause you signed. Being with me gives them cause. And I panicked. I just can’t have anyone else I love hurt or judged because of me. I just can’t, Rorke. I can’t stand the thought of you losing your career because of mine. Especially not now, after you lost your dad and the farm. I can’t carry that guilt, Rorke. I just can’t.” A huge rush of air leaves my chest. “You need to go home.”
“Not without you.”
“Rorke, your job is at stake!”
“So is my heart.” He walks towards me.
“Go home before you lose everything.”
“Dammit, you are everything!” he barks. “Why do you not understand that?”
“Because it sounds like something you’d put on a greeting card! And when reality sinks in, you’ll end up hating me, blaming me. No matter how much I love you, it won’t be able to stop that from happening!”
He pulls me into his lap on the bed, cradling me. “I’m not fired yet.”
“Because I left. Because we didn’t get married. But now they know you’re here with me. And you know the kind of hissy fit that woman, Mrs. Quaid, can have. What did the principal say?”
“That some concerns have been brought to his attention, and he wants me to appear in front of the school board.” Rorke strokes my hair. “I can’t believe all this was you trying to protect me.”
“Yes, and your mom. She needs you. You can’t be out of work, and you won’t accept my help. I hoped if I left then they’d let this go. I thought I would come back here and . . .” I stop to take a deep breath, remembering my daddy’s only word—fight. Wish I had heeded that advice earlier. But I was a coward and ran. “I was even thinking of selling my company.”
“Sterling, that’s crazy. You aren’t selling because of me. Absolutely not!”
“Just listen. I thought if I sold it, then maybe the school would overlook things since I’m not involved in that business anymore.”
“You aren’t giving up what you built for me,” he says.
“And you aren’t losing your career for me,” I say. “So what do we do?”
He squeezes me a little, saying, “This isn’t the time to let go. It’s the time to hang on.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, wishing my voice sounded as strong as my apology really is. Why is it the things you mean the most are the hardest to express? Saying I’m sorry just doesn’t seem to cut it right now, but Rorke kisses me softly, letting me know it’s enough for him.
“Me, too,” he whispers back. “I was an asshole about the money. I should’ve handled that better.”
Looking up at him, I ask in a whisper, “What about the farm?”
Running his fingers through my hair, he says, “One thing at a time.”
“You still won’t take the money?”
Shaking his head, he says, “I realized something when you left. I didn’t think about the farm, the camp, or money once. Not one single second.”
“But the camp is your dream.”
“You are my dream.”
Gently sliding me off his lap, he sinks down to one knee, reaching into his pocket. Hot tears start rolling down my cheeks again. I look down at the ring, the same one I had cut off only days ago.
“When did you . . . How did you . . .”
“I asked the jeweler to fix it,” Rorke says, slipping it back on my finger. “Make it stronger than it was before.”
My heart melts. I’ve never been so thankful for his stubbornness than I am right now—his stubborn love. We have so much ahead of us. “I told Momma to cancel the wedding,” I whisper.
“I doubt she listened,” he says with a little grin.
“I know she didn’t. I hate to say it, but with everything else going on, maybe we should postpone.”
With a firm shake of his head, he says, “No way. No matter what happens, you’re walking down the aisle to me and becoming my wife.”
*
With school set to start soon, time isn’t on our side. Rorke had his mom dig through his stuff and email us a copy of his contract with the school so my lawyer could take a look at it. The morality clause is pretty broad. They could very well fire him.
I know that has to scare him, even if he doesn’t say it. He didn’t go to college, study hard, and work harder for crappy money to have to deal with this bullshit. He surely could find another teaching job, probably in the public school system. The pay’s better there, anyway, but I’ll blame myself if that happens. And it may be hard to get another teaching job if he’s fired from this one for being “immoral.” Rorke keeps assuring me that nothing bad will happen, that it won’t come to that. But the only way to know for sure is to face it head-on.
The meeting with the board is set. We know who’s on the panel, and we know we have a fight ahead of us. We catch the first flight back to Alabama, spending the duration of it developing a plan of attack. Rorke reaches out to former students, getting testimonials that he’s a good guy worthy of continuing teaching at the school, and even how he’s changed some of their lives and put them on a better course, towards a better future.
As for me, I use the time to reach out to my office, marshaling all my team leads and my assistant, Miles, in furtherance of my plans. Once again, I’m not telling Rorke what I am up to. I’m keeping what I’m doing a secret. I don’t want to distract him, and I don’t want him to dissuade me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
RORKE
We’re in the
school auditorium for the board meeting. Everyone is starting to take their seats. It seems all of Fall Springs is here—parents, alumni, students, random townsfolk. I’m sure they’re all expecting quite a show. We should be serving popcorn and charging admission.
I’m used to public speaking. I’ve been standing in front of a classroom for years, teaching about literature’s great lovers, tragedies, epic journeys. But today’s lecture, if you can even call it that, will be slightly different.
So I’ve got a knot in my stomach. My palms are a bit sweaty. I’m pacing, waiting for things to start. I see Sterling talking to the principal in the back. It’s a little animated—I can’t make out what they are saying, but she’s no doubt begging for my job.
The principal leaves her to head up to the front of the auditorium. I catch a look back at Sterling, who is taking her seat next to my mom and her parents, along with Ms. Mirabelle, Tally, Melanie, and the rest of the book club crew. They are friendly faces. My students are friendly faces, too.
Beyond them, I don’t know who’s on my side, and there are a few hundred people here. I certainly can’t trust the principal, taking his seat alongside the other board members, including the school’s old priest and Mrs. Quaid, acting as the town’s supposed moral authority. There are two others on the board, both relatively young women. I need a majority of the five votes to survive.
Standing before a podium, I look over my notes, full of case examples to cite and testimonials from old students. As I shuffle a few things around, the principal opens the meeting by mentioning that I’m the only item on tonight’s agenda.
Strangely enough, that doesn’t make me feel special. It’s shitty, actually. If I didn’t love teaching, and the students, I would’ve bolted a long time ago—resigned myself to working on the farm with my dad.
The principal references my contract and reads the paragraph that contains the morality clause, which, in essence, states that all my actions, both on and off campus, are to reflect the high moral standards of the Church, and that everything I do should be a reflection of Christ.
“Mr. Weston,” the principal continues, “some parents are concerned about the occupation of your fiancé, and how that might affect the children in the school.”
“We think it’s cool as hell!” a boy in the crowd yells out.
I groan inside. One of my current students, he’s a favorite, but he’s not helping my cause. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he quickly comes to order. My eyes land on Sterling, who’s burning a hole in Mrs. Quaid. She represents everyone who’s ever passed judgment on Sterling, talked shit about her.
“What do you have to say about all this?” the principal asks me.
Turning back to the panel, I say, “The occupation of my future wife has nothing to do with my moral fiber or my teaching ability.”
“How could it not?” Mrs. Quaid jumps in. “The Bible teaches us that . . .”
“Ma’am, you don’t want to get into a debate with me quoting Scripture or any other literature.”
“I don’t like your tone,” she says.
“You have no right to call Sterling’s morality into question. Or mine, for that matter.”
“As members of this board, we have that very authority under your contract,” the priest says.
“Judge not, that ye be not judged,” I respond then cut a look to Mrs. Quaid. “I’m sure you’re familiar with that from Matthew.”
“I’m familiar with it, as well,” the old priest says.
“I’m not so sure,” I say.
“I suggest you watch yourself, son.”
I bite my tongue rather than continue fighting with the priest. Getting snarky with him will not help my situation.
I look down at my notes, everything that I planned to say, the former students recommendations I was going to reference. I’ve obviously gotten way off track, not that anything in there will help, anyway. I look over at Sterling, who offers me a sweet smile, encouraging me—to do what, I’m not sure.
“You shouldn’t judge me for loving a woman, no matter who she is, what she does, where she comes from,” I say. “My love for Sterling Jamison is moral above anything else.”
“That’s all nice to hear,” Mrs. Quaid says, “but we need to think about the community as a whole. We cannot have a sex toy manufacturer and distributer as part of the fabric of our school. We have to think about the children. I mean, we can’t forget that selling or possessing these things is actually against the law in our state. The fact of the matter is, you can’t be cavorting with a criminal, Mr. Weston, and also teaching our children!”
I’d been waiting for her to play this card. Sterling had prepped me for it. It gives me a bit of an opening. “A criminal?” I snark, rolling my eyes. “Do you know how many ridiculous laws there are on the books in this country? This state? For example, it’s illegal to shoot silly string in Mobile. Did you know that?” There are a few chuckles in the audience. “Or how about the law that says it’s illegal to flick a booger into the wind. As a teacher, do you know how many times I’ve seen kids picking their noses? Perhaps I should start making citizen’s arrests?” More chuckles this time. I may have gotten even more had I pointed out that both her boys would’ve been in prison a long time ago for that offense, but I leave that part out.
“Those are silly laws,” Mrs. Quaid says.
“Exactly the point,” I quickly respond.
“But it’s hardly the same thing,” she says. “We’re talking about what’s wholesome. What’s decent.”
“What’s indecent,” I say, “is that y’all have already decided to fire me.”
She says, “No, our minds are open.”
“This is just some fake show of fairness,” I say. “So you can pretend to be righteous and just.”
“Mr. Weston!” the priest cries. “How dare you!”
I’ve pissed off the priest again. Oh, well, I can’t seem to help it.
I take a deep breath and scan the panel before me. There’s no way Mrs. Quaid or the priest will ever vote in my favor, they’ve made that clear. Hell, I knew that before we started. I’m sure the principal will follow along with them, so I’m screwed. The two other women on the panel have been silent, so far. I can’t get a read on them. It probably doesn’t matter what they think at this point. I’ll be applying to different schools in short order. Maybe I should just resign at this point, save a blemish on my resume.
No, I won’t do that.
“Forgive me, Father,” I say, “but here’s the thing—I can’t think of a better way to lose my job than to lose it for Sterling. I didn’t come here today to save my job, though I’d love for that to happen. I came because I love her,” I say and give a tight smile to Sterling. “Because I’ll use any forum I have to tell the world that I love her—even here in this auditorium. Because she’s the best person I know. Because I’m proud to be the man she loves. In The Portrait of a Lady, Henry James said, ‘It has made me better loving you.’” I turn to Sterling and say, “I’ve loved you my whole life. Loving you has made me better.”
A few cheers break out in the crowd, and Sterling suddenly gets to her feet, a huge smile on her face and a few tears as well. She heads towards me, and I leave the podium, meeting her halfway, as Mrs. Quaid and the priest call out for me to return to my place. I ignore them completely.
Sterling, and only Sterling, is on my mind. She’s all I care about. Fuck this meeting. Fuck whatever happens to me.
I wipe away her tears before kissing her hard in front of God and the whole town. Then I take her hand and walk out of the auditorium in the middle of the meeting, before a single vote is cast.
*
STERLING
The entire car ride home, I blare Johnny Paycheck’s “You Can Take This Job and Shove It.” It’s good to blow off some steam after the meeting, and after the intensity of the last few days. Rorke even laughs a time or two, but I know he’s not truly happy. He’s really conflicted inside. He loves his stude
nts and wants to keep teaching at the school, but he hates the way the administration has handled all this. And, of course, I hate that I’m the cause.
In between singing our asses off, I tell Rorke how proud I am of him, how touched I am. It’s rare to find a guy—any human, for that matter—who would do what Rorke did, and do it as eloquently and confidently as he did under the circumstances. And he did it all on the fly. All his notes, all that preparation, went out the window so quickly. That’s why I did my own preparation—because I knew his would be useless, though I never told Rorke that.
I had a knot in my stomach the whole meeting, but that’s nothing compared to what Rorke must’ve been feeling. It must’ve been so hard for him, being on stage in front of the whole town. I can’t imagine being dragged in front of an entire community. I wouldn’t have handled things as well as Rorke in a public forum. I surely would’ve let loose a string of curses—New York Sterling would have come flying out.
I’m glad he left the meeting when he did. He doesn’t owe any of them one more ounce of his time or energy. Watching him defend me was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done. I think I’m still in a bit of shock. It’s one thing for a man to love you, but quite another to have him throw down the gauntlet and tell the whole world.
We’re barely through the door when his cell phone rings. It’s the principal. We both stop in our tracks. My heart is beating out of my chest as they speak for a moment. I put my ear up to the phone and try to listen in, but Rorke moves a step away. All I can hear through the phone is that the committee voted. I can’t hear anything else. Rorke’s not saying much. I watch his eyes to see if it’s good or bad news, but I can’t tell. He’s not giving anything away.
I swear, if they fuck with Rorke, I will . . .
Before I can finish the thought, I hear Rorke say, “Thank you, sir. I’ll see you at school,” before he disconnects.
“They’re letting you stay?” I cry and fly into his arms.
Toying With Her Page 23