Lil, of course, was in a stupor. She knew nothing of Jerry Anderson’s role in this affair.
Tom Becker was furious with Dora for having robbed Rick of his priesthood. Peggy did not know of Dora’s pregnancy. To Mrs. Becker, Rick was just one more priest failure who had looked back after putting his hand to the plow.
Zachary, Zoo, and Anne Marie Tully knew of Dora’s pregnancy. They sympathized with both Rick and Dora.
Jerry of course, knew about himself and Dora, but had been unaware of Lil’s feelings for Rick. Where once he had loved Dora, Jerry now hated her for having manipulated and discarded him.
Father Harry Morgan didn’t have a clue.
Father Koesler knew everything.
The newly civilly married couple honeymooned for a couple of days at the St. Clair Inn. The setting was beautiful. The mood left something to be desired.
The sex was satisfactory—no more—and that only because Dora put so much into it. It was as if she were going to make this marriage work, no matter the odds.
Rick struggled to forget what had brought him to this point in his life. He walked the beach endlessly, wrestling with Dora’s essential question, “Why did you undress me?” And his answer to it all, “I was drunk.” Finally he settled on a simile that seemed to help.
What of the man, Rick reasoned, who got drunk, took a handgun, and killed someone? Was the man not guilty of murder because he was drunk? Or was he responsible for getting drunk and thus responsible for what he did while drunk?
Rick knew darn well what he was doing when, motivated by anger at Lil, he began drinking too much at the party. After he passed out he was still responsible for having drunk too much—to the point of intoxication. And responsible for anything he might do while in that state. He was responsible for then falling into a sexual frenzy. Granted, his mind had been muddled at that point. But he was responsible for his muddleheadedness.
This conclusion helped a bit. But he was coming at it from two angles: cognitive and emotional. His mind dictated the complete acceptance of responsibility. But he felt he had been ensnared in Dora’s orchestration, and, thus blindsided and trapped as he was, had been robbed of all he wanted in life.
He tried to see things from Dora’s perspective. This was no unadulterated picnic for her. She was pregnant. He figured that most women considered that condition as good and bad news. It must be thrilling to have new life developing inside oneself. On the other hand, the baby was not going to painlessly slide into the outside world.
On the second and last day of their honeymoon he called Tom Becker to see if permission were still granted to use the boat. He had to play all relationships rather tentatively due to his status change. People who respected him as “Father” might despise him as Rick.
But Tom proved true (which was more than Tom could guarantee from Peggy). The boat was Rick’s for the afternoon.
Brightly he proposed to Dora a leisurely ride on the lake. He’d never seen anyone exhibit such fear, instantaneous panic. She was terrified of the water. One more nagging difference from Lil. Accept your responsibility! his mind commanded. But it hurts, his heart replied.
It was a surprise to no one that Rick was offered a job in management in Becker’s company. He spent his first day at work much the way Mary Richards—of the Mary Tyler Moore Show—had: sharpening pencils. Gradually, but solidly, he got a handle on the job and was making creative suggestions and moves.
He had to get used to being one of the bunch. In his former life when he uttered an unpopular opinion, others might react, “You’ve gone too far, Father.” Now when he said something questionable, he might be greeted with: “You’re full of shit, Rick.” Oddly, he was not perturbed; he thought he preferred the latter approach.
One day after work Rick stopped in to see Father Koesler.
“I’ve been expecting you,” Koesler said as they both sat down in the living room.
Rick smiled slightly. “I kind of thought you would.”
“For one thing,” Koesler said, “I expect you’ll be wanting to change your Last Will and Testament.”
“Where I name Lil as the main heir?”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, I want to leave the will just as it is.”
“But you’re married now. Don’t you want to name Dora as beneficiary?”
“No.”
Koesler shrugged. “It’s up to you. But I doubt it’ll be legal unless you specifically mention your wife and your child. You’d better talk to a lawyer.”
“I owe Lil just about everything. I’ve already told you how long we were together—how much we depended on each other.” Rick shook his head and blinked away a tear.
“Anyway,” he said after a moment, “I wanted to ask if you would be a sounding board, a listening post, whatever …
“From time to time it may be important for me to know who might still be speaking to me and who isn’t.”
Koesler smiled reassuringly. “You’re a friend and a colleague. You shouldn’t be concerned that you all of a sudden will be shunned.”
Casserly looked purposeful. “There’s Harry Morgan, for instance.”
“If I were you I wouldn’t count out Harry. I think you’ll find that by and large you’ll be pretty much accepted across the board.”
“Maybe. I guess you’re right.” Rick shifted forward in his chair. “Maybe I am a little paranoid. But I don’t want to barge in where I’m not wanted. I may want or need to talk to one of the guys, but if he doesn’t want my company, it’ll be an embarrassing scene for him. And I don’t want that if it can be helped.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll keep a weather eye out. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“How are you at changing the past? No … no,” he interrupted Koesler’s attempt to respond. “Forget it.” Rick started to rise, then sat back again. “There is one more thing.”
Until now Rick had been testing the water … seeing how his friend would respond to him. Both he and Koesler knew this. Games people play. “I was wondering,” Rick said, “how’s Lil doing?”
“Remarkably well,” Koesler replied. “She started her comeback early on and has made good progress. She comes to see me from time to time. Would you like me to give her your greetings?”
“No. I don’t want to mess up her life again. Best I stay out of the picture—hard as that is to do.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Oh …” Casserly did his up and down, jack-in-the-box routine again. “By the way, does she ever mention me?”
“Every time I see her.”
Casserly beamed. “You don’t know how much that means to me. I guess, if you don’t mind, you could say hello to her for me.”
They shook hands and Casserly left.
Koesler stood watching from the screen door as his friend walked to his car. I wish, Koesler thought, that I could do something about the past.
When Rick Casserly reached the inevitable conclusion that he would marry Dora—which was shortly after he learned of her pregnancy—he began the process of cutting his ties with the active ministry. Without his involvement, the all-too-familiar notice of his “leave of absence” was published in the Detroit Catholic. And a temporary administrator was appointed to Rick’s former parish.
Shortly thereafter, Dora appeared at the Oakland Monthly. She had been granted vacation time. Now she was expected to return. She knocked on the door of Pat Lennon’s office and was welcomed in.
“Thanks for the vacation time,” Dora opened.
“You earned it. You ready to come back?” Lennon was not at all sure Dora could carry the load as she had when she first came to the magazine.
“That’s what I want to see you about …” Dora nervously tapped fingernails on her purse. “I think I’m going to have to leave.”
“Oh?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Being pregnant was one of the few things Lennon had never done. Dora’s admission was the final nail in the coff
in. No one in the office would have bet against her pregnancy. “How about a maternity leave?” Pat suggested.
“Thanks. That’s more than I deserve after goofing off lately. But I don’t think so. I’ve got to take it easy. I’m spotting a bit. And after the baby comes, Rick and I have decided that I should stay home with the baby.”
“If that’s the way you want it, fine. I’ll try to get you some severance pay. It’s not yours by rights ’cause you’re leaving voluntarily. But you’ll just be settling in and the money couldn’t hurt.”
“Thanks again. But Rick is doing well. We’re sure we can make it.”
There was no point in small talk. Lennon had lots to do. So they said their good-byes.
Then Dora paused to look for a final time around the large editorial office. It held many memories, mostly good. She looked specifically for, and found, Jerry Anderson. He seemed absorbed with the screen of his computer. His back was to her and there was an air about him that said he didn’t want to be interrupted. Particularly by her.
So she left—feeling she would never see this place again.
Women commonly complain about being used and discarded by men. Now, Jerry Anderson could sympathize.
Ever since Dora’s wedding Jerry had had mixed emotions. He oscillated between embarrassment and hatred. And much of the time the two emotions meshed. He knew he wouldn’t get over these feelings soon—if ever.
A few days ago he had heard from Father Harry Morgan, of all people. Morgan informed Jerry of Lil’s hospitalization. There were no details—only that Lil had been in the hospital for several days. With the way patients lately were whisked in and out of hospitals, the fact that Lil had been confined several days spoke to the seriousness of her problem, whatever it was. All Morgan knew was that Lil was now at home, presumably convalescing.
All members of the Ursula group had the others’ addresses and phone numbers. The apparent purpose of Morgan’s call was to suggest that Jerry contact Lil and offer services if needed.
Anderson wondered why Morgan had selected him to visit Lil. If Jerry had to guess, it would be because, of all the members of the club, he and Lil were the only single and eligible people left. And since Jerry had been duly returned to the lay state, he could, if it came to that, contract marriage in the Church.
Jerry debated briefly with himself before deciding to follow Morgan’s lead. He’d been out of the helping business—which came as a second nature to priests—for a long while. But maybe he could help in some as yet undefined way. Besides, he could use a little companionship himself.
It had been several days since Morgan’s call. But Lil’s condition, whatever it was, probably hadn’t changed much. When he got home from work he phoned her.
Lil answered guardedly. As if the wrong caller might have seriously hurt her. Her voice then took on a puzzled tone; seemingly the last person in the world she expected to hear from was Jerry Anderson. Taken by surprise, she assured Jerry she was all right and needed nothing.
Jerry told her to feel free to call anytime if she changed her mind.
For the next thirty minutes Lil weighed the consequences of getting even slightly involved with anyone. In the end, she dialed Jerry’s number. “Can a girl change her mind?” she asked meekly.
He laughed and said he’d be right over.
She was wearing a robe over her nightgown when she opened the door for him. It was a small apartment. He reminded himself that few people get rich working for the Catholic Church.
She had taken over—and seemed to be living on—one end of the couch. She invited him to occupy the other end.
They found it awkward beginning a conversation. He led her into narrating the responsibilities of a parochial school principal. From there he prompted her to remember and relate some of the anecdotes that went with the job. They both began laughing. It was doing her good. Then he launched into life at a monthly magazine. He wanted to keep things light. She laughed at his tales of office shenanigans.
It became clear to Jerry that it had been a spell since she’d been able to lighten up. He kept at it until the night sky was ending the day.
Lil was tired with a happy exhaustion. This was a difficult time for her. Rick had come to her so often as day ended. Anytime his evenings were unscheduled, he would come “home” to her. Her bodily rhythms prepared her to welcome him. And when he couldn’t be with her because he was scheduled, he would be with her as soon as he could.
She had not yet adjusted to the fact that he would not be coming home to her ever again. Because that accommodation remained unresolved, this time of day was especially hurtful.
Jerry had changed things—slightly—but changed them nevertheless. Instead of crying, she’d been laughing.
But Jerry would have to leave soon. If only because she was so fatigued.
He sensed her weariness and prepared to leave. She saw him to the door. Haltingly she asked if he would come again. He told her he didn’t want to become a pest. She said that was the last thing he had to worry over. So it was set: tomorrow early evening, same place, same people.
As he was leaving, she stood on tiptoe and brushed his cheek with her lips. It was as chaste a kiss as one would give one’s parents. Yet there was something erotic about it.
This night she slept peacefully with pleasant dreams. He spent most of the night sitting in a chair, fixated on nothing. Letting Dora’s attractive features slip out of mind—to be replaced by Lil’s sweetness and delicate beauty.
Though Jerry and Lil had taken different paths, each was now filled with the other.
Twenty-two
By the time Lil and Jerry Anderson enjoyed a memorable evening together, she had progressed from catatonia to merely a major league depression. Now, almost two weeks later, she was almost completely adjusted. The lion’s share of the cure was due to Anderson.
He had supplanted Rick in Lil’s life. Now it was Jerry, not Rick, who arrived as the sun was setting. Jerry had few demands on his time once the clock indicated the workday was finished. He anticipated her every need.
Sometimes they sat and watched the sunset, or perhaps television. Sometimes they did nothing but sit and hold hands. But that was in the beginning of their special relationship.
Soon, both felt that they should go out. Lil was strong enough now.
She couldn’t believe the difference. They could go anywhere they wanted—as a couple. And they went. To the symphony. To a movie. To the theater. Swimming. Horseback riding. The zoo. Dinner with some of Jerry’s friends from the magazine. Dinner with her assistant principal and some of Lil’s teachers.
They were an ordinary couple. She found it difficult to believe. Occasionally she would glance behind her to see if there was anyone they knew. And then she would laugh to herself.
And, although they were in love, they hadn’t made love. Their scars were too deep. They were sharing everything except what had brought them together in the first place: the unfaithful betrayal of the two people they had each loved exclusively.
It is unlikely that time heals everything for everyone. But it often aids the healing process. So it proved for Jerry and Lil. Neither completely forgot what had happened. While Jerry Anderson condemned what Dora had done to him as reprehensible, she had done him one favor: She didn’t marry him. Comparing the generosity of spirit of the two women in his life, there was no contest. Dora manipulated people; Lil helped them.
While Lil Niedermier realized that Rick Casserly was not fully responsible for what had happened, he was the ultimate cause of it all. Hardest of all to forgive and forget was Dora, who had written the script.
However, without their being conscious of what was happening, time was performing its invisible miracle. Jerry was absorbed in Lil’s goodness. And Lil was lost in her love for him.
It was October, early fall. School had been under way for nearly a month.
Oakland Monthly featured an interview with the newest Detroit Lion. Would the team recapture the
splendor of the boys of the fifties when Bobby Layne and Joe Schmidt carried the Lions to championships? Would Detroit fans again be roused to the heady hopes and excitement generated in 1999 by Bobby Ross’s heroic band of walking wounded?
There were fall fashions, personality portraits, interviews with a local TV meteorologist, and the ever-popular dining-out guide.
St. Enda’s school got under way in its usual faltering manner. Students reluctantly had to forgo the constant play of summer and get down to work.
As always, parents who valued private school over public paid the extra load to send their children to institutions like St. Enda’s. If a student didn’t live up to the academic expectations, he or she would be picked up by the public school system, leaving that student’s parents most unhappy.
But now, in October, the wheels of education were turning and everybody was doing about what was expected.
To say Lil Niedermier was a happy principal would be to undershoot the target. She could think of Jerry as “my man.” And, of course, she need no longer fear anyone discovering her significant other. She stopped abruptly in reading a teacher’s report. My man? she thought. How did he happen to be her man? Nothing corroborated this title but their love for one another.
What was missing? The intimacy of love that sealed their relationship. Plus what Rick used to refer to as the paper chase.
That situation would have to be rectified. Suddenly she knew this beyond a doubt. Tonight.
With the help of her assistant, Lil was able to get away earlier than usual. She made a large tossed salad and cut into it some grilled chicken breasts. This constituted a pleasant surprise for Jerry, who had expected to eat out.
He watched her as she cleared the table and filled the dishwasher. It was a view that Rick had admired and that Jerry delighted in even more.
She lowered herself onto the couch, almost on top of him. They sat very still, holding hands.
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