Till Death (32 page)

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 coffin. 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.

After a period of silent commingled thoughts, she raised her face to his. He kissed her lightly on the lips. She took his hand and placed it on her breast.

He was startled—but he did not pull away. Rather, he fondled her. Finally he whispered, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more!”

Each of them had had only one previous partner. But this was better than anything they could have tasted or imagined.

Meanwhile, in their home on Detroit’s east side, Rick and Dora Casserly had just finished dinner.

Rick had said little since returning from work. He had not even complimented Dora on the gourmet meal she had prepared. It was par for the course for Dora. Ordinarily, Rick would have commented. Tonight, no.

Like most gourmet cooks, Dora had used most of the pots, pans, and cookware in the cabinets. Cleaning up, then, was a chore.

Rick looked up from reading the paper. He studied Dora as she cleaned. Her back was to him. Again he found himself comparing her with Lil. Dora had her own attractive features. Even though the two were both relatively young, it was like comparing apples and oranges. One thing he had to say for Dora: She kept trying until, generally, she got what she wanted.

She started the dishwasher for what would be the first of three full cycles. It would take that many to wash all the utensils, dishes, and flatware.

She stepped into the dining ell and sat across from him. That was a sign she wanted to talk. He recognized it and put the newspaper down to give her his full attention.

“Rick,” she began, “we haven’t entertained very much.”

“Give us time. We’re just getting started. My contacts at work haven’t reached the stage of socializing. It’ll come. You have to be patient. And you seem to have pretty much moved away from your former colleagues at the magazine.”

“That’s a good place for us to begin.” She folded the dish towel carefully and laid it on the table. “We have a tendency to dance around the most painful part of our past. Take the gang at the magazine, for instance. Lately they haven’t taken my calls or returned them. They’ve frozen me out. And I resent it!”

He hesitated to respond. He was sure her former coworkers had learned how she had treated Jerry Anderson and they were put out because of it. But he knew from previous conversations that Dora refused to accept responsibility for dumping Jerry.

In an effort at conciliation, he said, “Maybe there’s a simple explanation for that. You’re used to working with these people Monday through Friday, week after week. I suppose most of your contact at the magazine was work-related. It was constant contact, but most of it had to do with work. They all had an after-hours life that you weren’t a part of. I mean, they went home after work just like you did.

“What you’re missing, Dora, is the life on the job that you’re no longer sharing with them.”

“No!” she said with bitterness. “It’s Jerry’s fault. He’s bad-mouthing me. They’ve got to work with him and they’re taking his side about what happened.