The Five Lives of John and Jillian

by Greg Krehbiel

  The word confused him at first, but then he remembered the date. March 21st. He had read about that when he was researching Wicca. It was the night when the Goddess blankets the earth with fertility, the God grows to maturity and the wild creatures of the earth reproduce. Rings and inhibitions could come off on this night.

  John pulled off on the exit ramp for Bowie and shifted into third gear. Susan seemed to be leaning toward him. His hand brushed against her leg and his arm against her breast.

  “Jillian was the pagan, Susan. Not me,” he said, almost in a whisper.

  “Then she’d understand, if she ever found out. And besides, tonight is Ostara, whether you’re in tune with it or not. Can’t you feel it in the air?” She leaned a little closer in the already intimate interior of her Miata and brushed her hand ever-so gently over his ear. “Can’t you feel it in your blood?”

  He could. His blood was boiling, and his mind was screaming at him. Thousands of thoughts seemed to race through his head in an instant, but thoughts were the least of his worries.

  He’d always felt a certain rhythm to the changing of the seasons, and he especially felt it in the spring. If there was any reality to these pagan fertility cycles, then it seemed more than natural to go with it. He would be participating in something God had done – something He had written into the very nature of things. The animals had times for mating. Why is it so wrong for humans?

  He remembered two Beltane’s ago, when a dream had come to him in the night, unbidden, of the Goddess and the God and a lusty May Day frolic in the woods. Where had that dream come from? He was still an agnostic at the time, and had only recently become involved with the still-Wiccan Jillian. It was as if his mind had been opened to spiritual things. Or, he had to be honest, to pagan things. Wasn’t that dream evidence of the reality of Beltane? As if something deep within him was finally awakening, becoming aware of a reality that he’d tried to suppress?

  That’s what it had felt like at the time. As if some deep, animal urge was finally starting to make sense.

  Easter was coming. And Good Friday. Dying. Rising again. And it happened over and over again, every year. Something inside screamed at him to recognize the reality of the wheel of the year that the pagans participated in and the Christians tried to cover over with their dogmas and feast days. He was simply denying the reality he had begun to see. He was trying to repress what nature itself required.

  Slowly, like opening a door in his mind, he let his guard down and imagined having Susan alone. A thousand images from the office filled his mind. That tight-fitting knit skirt she wore. Her beautiful legs and fit body, so close now he could touch it with the slightest movement of his hand. And she wouldn’t pull away.

  John could feel his own body from the top of his head to the sole of his feet, full of energy and anticipation.

  And still his will didn’t answer.

  Finally, another image came to his mind. One that had been effectively suppressed over the last few days, but now came roaring into his vision: Jillian, naked with some other man. It filled his mind with anger, but also aroused him. Didn’t that give him license? He had forgiven her. Didn’t she owe him one? Didn’t he want to get even? And here was his chance.

  Suddenly, his will awoke. The baseness of that thought was too much to bear. Get even? Would he commit adultery – and that was what it was, despite any silly fantasies about spring-time – to get back at Jillian? Was his willingness to spend time with Susan just a suppressed effort to have his revenge, or settle the score? Would he have shared a six-pack with her otherwise? Would he have driven her car, or even ridden in it? Had he spoken a little too freely about his troubles, just to win her sympathy?

  And why did Susan pick tonight? Did she really believe in Ostara, and see this as her best chance, or was it just an excuse? Or was she even more calculating than that? This was an opportunity while John was having difficulties with Jillian.

  Suddenly the Goddess in the seat next to him had become the serpent. The disguise was gone and the trap was laid bare. What if he had given in? Reason suddenly returned to his mind and he knew that if he’d taken Susan home he would have to confess it, sooner or later. His conscience wouldn’t let him keep silence. And then what? He might lose Jillian. He would have traded one night of pleasure with a woman he didn’t even like for the love of his life.

  And what if Susan had conceived? He was sure she’d kill the child. He would be committing a human life, the offspring of his own body, to the care of someone who didn’t value it.

  In an instant his revulsion was complete. After the long, slow, torturous temptation, he finally saw the teeth in this trap.

  “I’m a Christian man, Susan. And I’m married.” He said it with a finality that broke the spell that had been building in the car during their drive from D.C.

  Susan sensed that the game was up. She sat back in her seat, clearly disappointed.

  “I was just trying to help you through a hard time,” she offered, as if she had to say something.

  John almost laughed. It was a transparent lie, and he wondered how he had been fooled for so long.

  Chapter 13 – The Scent of a Woman

  “Where have you been?” Jillian said with a slightly worried tone as she greeted him at the door.

  “You’re here,” John said, surprised and suddenly a little weak in the knees. If I’d brought Susan here ....

  Jillian looked into his eyes for a moment and then gave him a perfunctory hug and a kiss – no more than a formality. Something was wrong, and she knew it, and she could smell the beer on his breath. She took him by the hand and led him to the living room couch.

  “What’s the matter, John? Is all this starting to get to you?”

  That seemed like a convenient way out. She could read the discomfort in his eyes – he could never hide anything from her anyway, especially guilt – but maybe he could latch onto that, pretend that the pressures were just getting to him. He could wiggle out of this horrible night without too much damage. Maybe.

  He shook his head slowly and took a deep breath.

  “I was very foolish tonight,” he said, not even meeting her gaze.

  Jillian tried to measure his expression, and then she seemed to catch another smell. The scent of a woman?

  She looked away as fear rushed through her mind. Her concerns in Ohio had been justified. John couldn’t be as perfect as he’d seemed over the weekend. The pressure was bound to get to him. He’d worry about money, and he’d still have some resentment against her for this intrusion into their perfect little world. And he might still be jealous. All of it was a recipe for trouble, and she was away.

  As soon as she felt that she’d gotten through to Karl, and as soon as he was able, finally, to grieve over Norma, she decided it was time to come home and see to her knight in shining armor. And this is what she found. She was too late.

  “Jillian,” he said quietly, his voice filled with guilt. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I mean, I wasn’t unfaithful to you. I was just really, really stupid. I’m sorry.”

  Jillian felt something between anger and pity, but she wanted to get it all out on the table before one or the other took over.

  “Who were you with?”

  “Susan.”

  “What did you do?”

  “She came into my office with some beer, and we talked about this whole adoption thing, and then we drove out to get my car at the train station.”

  “Why did you drive? Couldn’t you take the train?”

  “We stayed too late talking.”

  That by itself said volumes. John never missed a train. He seemed to have a watch inside his head. The idea of time “just slipping by” was virtually impossible for him. He had to have wanted to stay late, to be stranded with no other way home.

  Worse still, she knew what John thought of Susan. Gorgeous, weird, a little slutty and not to be trusted. But he chose to stay late and drink with her. Maybe he hadn’t been unfaithful,
but he’d flirted with the idea.

  “Did you kiss her?”

  John looked down at the carpet. “No, I didn’t touch her.” He squinted a few tears from his eyes and looked back at Jillian. “But I was tempted to.” And then the tears came again.

  “Did she come on to you?”

  John looked away and laughed grimly. “Did she ever. Do you remember what day today is?”

  Jillian looked confused. It’s Thursday, she thought. March, ... oh, what’s the date.

  “Actually, I’m glad you don’t,” John said. “It’s Ostara. Do you remember what that’s all about?”

  Jillian’s eyes widened in shock, and then she laughed.

  “I always thought she was one of those horny pagans,” Jillian said, still laughing. “From the first time I met her. Oh, John, and what a time – after this last week.” And in that instant her anger faded. He’d been tempted, and he had thought she was out of town. He must have thought he could get away with it, but he resisted anyway. She also remembered how alluring those pagan fertility rites could seem. It was as if the whole world was screaming at you to hop in the sack. It wasn’t just sex, it was magic too. And Susan is an attractive woman. And still, he’d resisted.

  She leaned over and took him in her arms. John just buried his face in her shoulder.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I should never have let her in my office.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” she said, pushing him back enough to loosen his tie. “But she was right about one thing. It is Ostara.”

  * * *

  “So what’s going on with Karl?” John asked later.

  “Lots. But you’re not getting off the hook quite so easy as that,” Jillian said with a serious look.

  “Yeah,” John said with a sigh. “I’m not going to make excuses. I shouldn’t have spent time with Susan. I won’t do it again.”

  Jillian looked deeply into his eyes. John could see the pain in them, but there was something else there as well. She was hurt, but he thought she partly blamed herself.

  “It was my mistake,” he said. “Don’t blame yourself.”

  “It was your mistake,” she agreed, “but ... I can’t help feeling that I had worse coming to me. I’ve been hiding Karl from you for years, John. It’s not .... I’m so ashamed. I should have trusted you.”

  “We’re going to have to work through a lot of things,” he said. “But we’re going to do it together.”

  She snuggled up to him and nodded her head so that he could feel it against his chest. They lay like that for several minutes, and then Jillian told him all about Karl and their adoption petition.

  Jillian’s first impression of Karl was that he seemed distant, and that concerned her. She hoped it was a temporary thing as he grieved Norma’s death, but as it persisted through the week she began to realize there was more to it. He was hard to reach, as if he’d retreated into himself, and she wondered how things had been between him and Norma for the last few years.

  Sometimes she would speak to him and he would just look at her with a blank stare, and then go on with what he was doing. Jillian told him that was rude, and insisted that he say something when spoken to.

  “And did he do it?” John asked eagerly, recalling his conversation with Jack.

  “Yes,” she said, “and I only had to remind him a few times. So at least he’s listening.”

  That was a relief to John. If he’s going to adopt Huck Finn, he’d like to hope there was some prospect of improvement.

  They weren’t going to get Karl right away in any event, Jillian explained. A few things still concerned the judge, and because they would be taking him across state lines, he wanted to go slowly.

  The judge named the Russells as Karl’s temporary legal guardians, and he wanted the boy to stay in Columbus to finish the school year. That gave the court time to evaluate their petition a little more carefully, which included a home inspection, a review of their finances, and monitoring by a Maryland-based agency. They were going to get Karl for the summer. The court would then re-evaluate the issue in the fall, and if by Christmas everything still looked kosher, the adoption would be approved.

  Chapter 14 – Christian Education

  For the next few weeks, life almost settled down to normal. Karl stayed with Jack and Sandy until the end of the school year, and Jillian drove out every other weekend to spend some time with him. John worried about the cost, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

  Construction was proceeding apace in the back yard, and John tried to help out as much as possible with the work. The foundations had been poured and the block laid, and now the frame was going up. John was handy enough that Dave, the man who owned the construction company, agreed to offset some of the cost with John’s labor.

  After an already long and weary week, John took a day off work on Friday to help Dave install the insulation. That night, John and Jillian were supposed to head out to the conference Wayne and Amy had recommended, and John wanted to be sure Dave’s crew had a good start on Saturday’s work. He wouldn’t let them work on Sundays, which caused a little friction with Dave.

  The accumulated work and lack of sleep started getting to John as he climbed out of the shower just before dinner on Friday. He could feel that he was going to be hard-pressed to stay awake during the conference. But after reviewing the brochure again, he wasn’t positive he cared that much if he missed some of it. Maybe he could find a comfortable chair by a wall and catch a discreet 40 winks.

  Jillian, on the other hand, had been primed by Amy to expect an exhilarating time. Amy recounted her first Christian conference in glowing terms, as if it had changed her life. When pressed, she could hardly remember any of the points that were made, and she only had a vague idea what the theme of the conference had been, but she remembered how that night, for the first time in her life, the Bible came alive to her, and she felt she had a real connection with God.

  The 30-minute drive to the Annapolis church that was hosting the conference almost put John to sleep, and it was with dread of a painful evening that he went to the registration table to get their badges. As soon as John pinned on his name tag he made a beeline for the coffee table, only to find out that the health police had been there first. It was decaf.

  He seriously considered a quick jaunt to 7-11, but Jillian persuaded him to stay and have a look around with her before the conference started.

  The church was one of those modern buildings that seemed embarrassed to be a church. It looked more like a misshapen art project with a bulge on top. There was no steeple and no stained glass, but there was a basketball court and a lot of plastic. To John’s trained eye, it was a classic example of utilitarianism trampling all over beauty, and for no good purpose. He could have designed a structure that did everything this ugly thing did, but it would have inspired devotion, and it would have looked like a church. In a way he was glad they called it a “facility.”

  Jillian didn’t have the training to recognize the building’s failures, but she was disappointed at the lack of awe she felt as she walked around. It didn’t awaken any sense of dedication to the sacred. She didn’t feel as if she was visiting God when she walked in the door, the way she’d felt at St. Patrick’s so many years ago.

  What the facility lacked in sacredness it made up for in pep. It was bright and new and had all the latest accessories. John hoped he might not need the coffee after all. It might be hard to fall asleep in this place in any event.

  And then he was sure of it. John heard the characteristic popping sound and attendant white noise of a live jack being plugged into an electric guitar. The first few chords of “Jump” played on a synthesizer, followed by the rim shot sound that said “end of joke, laugh here.”

  That seemed to grab everyone’s attention, including John’s and Jillian’s, so they worked their way into the auditorium – auditorium, John thought, shaking his head, not sanctuary – to find a seat in one of the padded, theater-like chair
s.

  The seats had no kneelers, which took him by surprise at first, but he knew enough about other Christian denominations to know that it wasn’t unusual. He thought of Joe from the office who was offended by anything that reminded him of “formalism” or “Romanism.” The idea that religion applied to the body and not just the mind didn’t register with him, and, apparently, not with the people who built this “facility.”

  Still, the people who wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a crucifix had no trouble wearing their “WWJD” bracelets and rings and necklaces.

  John’s quiet analysis ended when Jillian pointed out Amy in the crowd. They waved to get her attention and worked their way toward her through the most cheerful looking people John had ever seen. “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace ...” he thought.

  Amy was beaming when they found her. Jillian smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Are we going to have to suffer through some trite lyrics set to bad music?” John asked with a half-serious smirk after hellos were exchanged.

  “Just wait and see.”

  After the musicians finished tuning and clowning around with their instruments they began a long instrumental piece that seemed familiar to John. He could anticipate the melody, although he wasn’t certain where he had heard the tune before. It was both old and new, upbeat and happy, but reverent. He had a hard time imagining anyone singing trite words to this music.

  As the song winded down, Amy grabbed a few sheets of paper that had been the left on the seats and gave one to each of them. The sheets had the lyrics for the evening’s songs, and they certainly weren’t trite. The band began an introduction to the first hymn, and then John realized why the music had seemed so familiar. They had been playing a collection of hymns, but the tunes had been slightly altered.

  His dismal expectations for the music came from an experience of “contemporary worship” at St. Anne’s one Sunday. Every sentimental, sappy, slow and silly song that should have died with the 70s had been resurrected, dusted off and performed badly. It was so embarrassing he wanted to slink away and hide. The women sung. The men mumbled, at best, which inspired John to come up with a new name for these “contemporary” hymns – “hyrs.”