The Freak: Part 4.

My day of revenge.

Based on a post by Senor Longo. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

 

THE FREAK; Part 4

That happened much earlier that I had thought. She and Mr. Gleason were at the house at eight the following morning, arriving just before my Aunt Debbie and Uncle Dave with my cousins. We left the house at 8:35 in three cars; Mr. and Mrs. Gleason with my parents and Angela, the cousins with Aunt Debbie and Uncle Dave, and my remaining two sisters with Barbara and me. Angela volunteered to get on line if necessary as we would be about ten minutes later due to picking up Eli.

Once down in the Village I turned right at the playground, the site of some really intense basketball games. So far as I knew, I was the only white guy to play there without hearing plenty of jibes and insults. Then again, there wasn’t one other player who could keep up with me. After the playground I made another left and a right before pulling into Eli’s driveway. Carole squeezed out from the back seat and sprinted up the sidewalk. The front door opened just as she arrived and Eli scooped her up into his arms.

“Hey there, Big C; I hear you’re in the wedding, too.” Then he hugged her, giving her a big kiss. Carole loved when he called her Big C, especially because she was by far the smallest in our family. Eli greeted us as he pulled the seat forward for Carole and squeezed into the front passenger seat next to Barbara and me.

“How’s your back, Barbara? You really look beautiful; unfortunately, there’s nothing special about you Freak. Did you comb that head with an egg beater this morning?”

“At least I never had the stupidity to get a Mohawk.”

“Ouch! That hurt! But it really is an honor to be with you this morning. I think all the guys and their girlfriends are going to be there, too.”

Barbara leaned over to kiss Eli’s cheek and laughed. “Jack told me about the Mohawk. Wow, is your mother strict!”

“Yeah, but looking at how some of the other kids behave I’m glad she is. They have no discipline; no self-control. I see nothing but trouble for most of them. It’ll be too late by the time they finally grow up. Enough of this negativity; where are you going for your honeymoon?

‘We’re leaving this afternoon for my parents’ bungalow. It’s not much, but we’ll have quiet and privacy.”

“More importantly, we’ll have each other,” Barbara said as she reached up to kiss my cheek. I turned left at the light onto White Plains Road and less than ten minutes later I was parking in the Town Hall lot. Angela was right there first in line with two couples behind her. We took her place with an apology to those behind us. They assured us it was not a problem and that Angela had told them that she was holding the spot for her brother. I gave her a hug as we took our place in line.

We hadn’t been there five minutes when I heard a clamor behind us. All of my school friends and some of Barbara’s; no doubt the work of Mrs. Gleason; walked in. I was proud when I saw that they were all in suits and dresses. I would have walked over to thank them, but the door opened at that very second. Barbara and I walked in with Eli and Carole right behind us. I showed our license and our judicial waiver, and paid the fee, handing Eli the rings before a quick request to the clerk and stepping forward to meet the Justice. I shook his hand, slipping him a twenty that he calmly slipped into his pocket. He did laugh when he saw the crowd, but took charge, telling everyone where to stand. My family and Mr. and Mrs. Gleason had prime locations. Eli stood to my right; Carole to Barbara’s left.

I had worn my navy suit as stated, but I was surprised to find it newly pressed as was my shirt AND tie. Barbara was stunning in a silver-white short-sleeved dress that was mostly form-fitting with a loose matching vest /jacket that ended at her waist over the bodice. Her coordinating heels were a great match and her diamond and opal jewelry set went with the outfit perfectly, as well.

I listened carefully to every word the Justice said, repeating word-for-word the oath of love and loyalty, forsaking all others gladly and loudly, proclaiming my love for Barbara, followed immediately by Barbara proclaiming her undying love for me. Eli produced the rings on time and Carole smiled broadly through the entire brief ceremony. It ended to nobody’s surprise with the command to kiss the bride. I had intended a quick relatively chaste kiss, but Barbara grabbed my head, pressed our lips together, and held it for more than ten seconds before pulling back to whisper, “I love you more than I can ever say so I’m going to show you every single moment of every single day.” We turned and walked out, making room for the next group of four people even as I slipped the clerk another twenty in trade for a legal-sized envelope with the typed documents I had requested.

Once outside Dad startled me by inviting everyone back to the house. “We’ll have deli meats and bread and a host of salads. There’s soda and beer and even the hard stuff and we’re hoping you will all come.”

When I reached home I learned that Mom had ordered everything including delivery yesterday while Barbara and I were getting our license. Two of our closest neighbors had taken the delivery and organized everything.

The house was jammed with people even though my parents’ house is large; not mansion large, but close. The living room alone is almost 600 square feet and when you add in the dining room, kitchen, breakfast nook, and my bedroom/family room at the rear the total was well over 1,000. I was standing with Eli, sipping a Coke, while Barbara spoke to a few of her friends from school. They told her that some absurd story had been created to explain her sudden departure. I overheard one of the girls refer to the nun as “the troll.” It must have been a commonly used name because the other three nodded their heads in agreement.

I would have laughed had Eli not spoken. “You’re a lucky guy, Freak. She is an incredible woman. She’s beautiful, intelligent, has a killer body, and it’s obvious that she is totally in love with you.”

“You’re right, Eli. The day I met her was the luckiest day of my life; until today, anyway. There was no way I was going to let her get away from me.” He clapped me on the back and left to tickle Big C before grabbing a sandwich from the dining room table. Angela started the phonograph and as soon as I heard “Sea of Love” I moved the latest Mrs. French to dance.

We held each other closely as I whispered, “Come with me, my love; to the sea; the sea of love; I want to tell you how much I love you; .” I was pleased when Barbara pulled me even closer to her body. The message was clear; I belong to you; everything; all of me.

I saw my sister Marie taking plenty of photos, spending Dad’s money freely. I knew she was on at least her third roll of film. We ate and danced and received the well wishes of our friends and family, but at 1:45 we disappeared upstairs exactly as planned. Once in Carole’s room we changed our clothes and I was especially keen to check on Barbara’s back.

There were signs of healing, but it was all too clear that she still had a very long way to go.

Ten minutes later we strolled downstairs dressed in jeans, casual shirts, and light jackets. Our suitcases and toiletries had been packed into the trunk of the Olds earlier this morning. We said our good-byes quickly, taking extra time to thank my parents, Eli, and Big C then we were off to our abbreviated honeymoon. We were on the Hutchinson River Parkway toward the Whitestone Bridge, making sure that I had the change for the tolls. The traffic heading eastbound on Long Island’s limited east-west highways was terrible during the afternoon rush hour and our goal was to reach Suffolk County by 3:00. We actually missed that by five minutes, but we clearly had avoided the bulk of the traffic and all of the delays one could expect.

We had been on the road talking and joking and looking forward to our life together when I asked her what she had been discussing with her friends. “I told them how I had asked Sister Mary Patrick about my ring and how she had treated me and about my injuries. They weren’t all that surprised. Elizabeth told me that she was beaten last year; not as many times as I was and for some minor transgression in class. She said that her parents were told that she’d be kicked out of school and possibly excommunicated by Msgr. Moran if they complained so they said nothing.”

“I’ll bet we can come up with lots of other girls just by talking to your friends and their friends and so forth. Mr. Silverman thinks we may be able to file a class action suit. That could involve hundreds of millions of dollars and I’m sure it would get plenty of publicity. It’s just like Moran to threaten the injured parties. Well, that won’t happen to us, will it?”

Barbara laughed. I loved hearing her laugh. “No, it won’t because we already quit, right?”

“Absolutely! Did I hear them call the nun a troll?”

“Yes, that’s what we call her. She’s short, maybe five feet two inches at most and she must weigh 250 pounds. Her breasts hang down to her navel and her nose is all misshapen and she has a beard. We know because one day in a weak moment she told us how hard it was for her to have to shave once a week. That was also the day that she condemned all men, telling us how the boys treated her when she was young. I gathered then that she hadn’t changed much as she grew older. She’s also one of the teachers you mentioned. She never attended college and she brags all the time about how that shows how smart she is.” I thought about that, wondering whether that information might be of use to Lt. Flanagan.

We were about half an hour from the bungalow when a thought hit me. I had to laugh and I did until Barbara asked me why. “I just realized something. Today is my re-birthday. With all the excitement I completely forgot. I was struck by lightning exactly ten years ago today. I guess that makes me doubly lucky today.” Barbara laughed then, as I stopped at a light, she moved over to give me a long hot kiss. Several people honked their horns when the light had turned green and I hadn’t moved an inch.

I drove up the lawn all the way to the back door of the bungalow. My dad had built most of it himself back in 1948. It was a simple rectangle with a galley kitchen right at the back door. I turned on the electricity right after carrying my kicking and laughing wife over the threshold. I left her to wander the house while I did the most objectionable job of opening the house; climbing headfirst into the crawlspace to turn the water on at the main. There were always plenty of spiders there and I had seen several black widows there over the years. That was why I ran a long stick around the opening and down the pit to where the valve was located. I also wore an old long-sleeved sweatshirt I had thrown into the trunk just for this purpose.

Barbara met me in the living room. “This is really nice, Jack”

“It’s better now than it was when it was built. There were no ceilings then and early in the morning there were comic books thrown from room to room and you could get hit by someone’s sneaker, too. In spite of that, there was almost a rebellion when Dad decided to add the ceilings. Also, originally there were no doors to the bedrooms; only cloth drapes. I don’t think that Mom was too happy with that. They only lasted one summer.”

“Which is your bed?”

I pointed to the bedroom on the far right. “Over here on the right. I have the one by the wall and Carole has the one under the window. I’ve been thinking of buying a lot or two somewhere around here. The beach is great. Some days you can sit there and not see another person for miles. I’ll take you down there tomorrow. There are pebbles all along the north shore so walking barefoot is tough at first, but within a week or so your feet will get calloused and you’ll be fine. Best of all is the water. It’s great for kids because it’s usually calm and clean so it’s wonderful for swimming, snorkeling, and fishing. There’s also a big rock about a quarter mile down the beach that’s right at the edge of the water. You can walk down there at high tide and dive off and swim right back up the rock because of the way it’s shaped. It’s pretty neat. Of course we have names for all these rocks. I’ll show you tomorrow.

“But first, we have to check out the house. I’ll give you the easy job. You can make the beds. We’re using my parents’ room. While you’re doing that I have to check for dead mice.” The look on Barbara’s face was priceless. “We sometimes get field mice that come in during the winter. Every September we put out Mouse-not’s; essentially strychnine poison; along with a small cup of water which activates the poison. That’s the good part. The bad is that they often die here either in the storage compartment in the couch or behind it or under it.”

I found the sheets for Barbara while I made my search. Sure enough I found two that had been dead for some time. I picked them up using a rag and placed them into a brown paper bag I would throw out later when we went out for dinner. It was almost that time now. We had eaten several times at the party so a big sit-down meal was out of the question, besides we wanted to have plenty of time to make love. We agreed on a pizza joint we had passed on the way.

We split a small sausage pizza and a large Pepsi then bought two Pepsi six packs at the local supermarket, but no food. We agreed that we’d rather spend our time making love than cooking and cleaning.

It was when we had returned to the bungalow that I received the first shock of my married life. Rather than make the two beds in my parents’ bedroom, she had made mine; a simple twin. “How much room have we needed the last two nights, Jack? Hmm? The only difference is that neither one of us is going to wear anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Well; I’m going to be wearing you and you’re going to be wearing me. We will have a blanket and a sheet. But I expect to feel you all night and when I feel that certain something special that I’ve come to love; .” I couldn’t help but laugh. I wanted to take a shower, but Barbara was impatient. She stripped me in seconds then shed her clothes, as well. I did make her wait until I had checked her back. Almost all of her bleeding welts had scabbed over, but I would still have to apply the ointment and reapply the bandages before we retired. Otherwise I was afraid I would further injure my bride in my sleep.

Barbara pulled several dozen condoms from her purse. When I gave her a questioning look she laughed as she explained, “Your mom is a really prepared woman. She bought them for us while you were in school then made sure they were in my purse. You know that guys never go into a girl’s purse. Anyway, we have enough to get us through the weekend.”

I shook my head in dismay, but thought this would be a good time for a discussion that would impact both of us. I explained how I had made some changes in my portfolio to buy Searles Pharmaceuticals because they had marketed the new birth control pill. We talked about the pros and cons, ultimately agreeing that she would try it. I explained further that the pill was a sign of progress; medically and sexually.

“If we don’t make some progress pretty soon; ..” I could take the hint, lying back on the bed so Barbara could climb onto my body. “Try touching my back, Jack.”

“I don’t want to; .”

“I know, but we have to experiment a bit. Oh! I guess I’m not ready yet.” Barbara was kneeling between my legs, rubbing my cock with her nipples. Moving forward she gripped my organ and I began to worry those hard wrinkled nipples as our kiss began. After a shaky beginning I’d learned to love Barbara’s kisses. Just the touch of her lips to mine was enough to harden me to steel. She carefully tore through the wrapper and rolled the thin latex sheath down over the head and shaft. I could tell in an instant that she was more than ready, easily seeing the reflection of her nectar running down her thighs in the dim light as she gripped me and spread her legs to almost one hundred and eighty degrees. Seconds later we were in heaven, sharing our desire, our need, and mostly our love.

Barbara must have been practicing because she gave me some sensations I had never felt before, either that or she was saving something special for when we were married. Her cunny was vibrating around my cock, driving me crazy with lust. That, combined with her frenetic movements, brought us to a delightful, but unfortunately swift conclusion. I twisted her big clit as I drove into her with all my strength. Barbara screamed into the night as her body exploded with rapture. My orgasm was there, too. It took all my energy and determination not to reach around her to clutch her to my body.

Instead, I grabbed the muscular orbs of her ass, waiting for her convulsions to ebb. Finally, we settled together, a sweaty dirty mess. I pulled the condom off, resting it on a hanky that I used to wipe myself clean then I pulled the blanket over us. My final act of the best day of my life was to whisper, “I love you, Mrs. French.” Barbara kissed my cheek and we were gone.

We rose early, showered and I addressed her back’s needs; applying ointment and bandages; then we dressed for breakfast; just jeans and sweatshirts and sneakers.

Breakfast out in this area meant going to a nearby deli for bacon and eggs on a roll. We also ordered sandwiches for our lunch. We were back to the bungalow in plenty of time for my phone calls first to Lt. Flanagan and second to Mr. Silverman. Lt. Flanagan told us that he had secured a warrant for both phone taps and for recording my conversations with the school principal and my least favorite monsignor. I made arrangements to meet with him at 8:00 Monday morning. I thought it would be the perfect opportunity; school would be closed, but the principal and staff were scheduled to work. I had no idea how he had learned that, but I agreed. I knew that I would have no trouble meeting with Msgr. Moran. All I had to do was tell him that I wanted to talk about my pledge for the Dunwoodie Chapel renovation. I did want to speak with him about it, but the conversation wasn’t one he would enjoy. I was going to renege after seeing how Barbara had been so terribly mistreated.

Mr. Silverman told me that he had met with a judge early yesterday morning and had been given a writ requiring the Tuckahoe School District to enroll Barbara French, nee Millard, a transfer student from St. Claudia’s in Yonkers. Also, a second writ required St. Claudia’s to provide me with Barbara’s records. That visit would give me a legitimate reason to visit the school. Finally, he told me that he had met with a local real estate agent yesterday afternoon in regard to a short-term rental. He said that my reputation in the community would probably help in that regard because everyone knew of my character. I rung off, telling him we’d speak again Monday after my undercover work was done.

The whole purpose of using the bungalow was to give us some time to be alone together and, other than a few minutes spent with two of my friends on the beach, that was exactly what we had. If anything, our love for each other grew every time we made love that weekend and we made love often; a minimum of three times a day, taking time off only to rest, shower, eat, and walk on the beach. I had always loved the peace I had found on the beach and Barbara obviously agreed. We resolved to buy a lot in the area where we could spend our summers and odd weekends when not taking classes in Massachusetts.

Sunday was Easter and we agreed to attend some kind of church services. After reviewing the options we decided on the Lutheran church in nearby Rocky Point, mostly because there was a Lutheran church just two blocks from St. Catharine’s in Pelham. We closed up the bungalow after the enjoyable service, ate lunch at a restaurant on the way home and arrived at my parents’ home around three that afternoon.

Of course, they wanted to know how Barbara was feeling. To that she only had a huge smile which made my mother laugh and my father red-faced. “My back still hurts, but someone is spoiling me rotten and he’s always putting that stuff on me and bandaging my boo-boo’s.” That was directed at Carole who laughed hysterically. She ran to Barbara and would have hugged her under other circumstances. Instead, Barbara hugged her, kissing her cheek. Then she whispered, just loud enough for all of us to hear, “I’m so glad you’re my sister now. I never had a sister before. Can you help teach me how to be a sister?” Carole beamed as she jumped forward to kiss Barbara’s cheek and wrap her harms around her neck, carefully avoiding her back.

“Well, the first thing you have to do is run up to J.J. when he comes in so he can hug and kiss you.”

We all laughed, but Barbara said in all seriousness, “I think I have that part down cold.”

Barbara insisted on coming with me to meet with Lt. Flanagan. He showed me the warrant and explained what I could and couldn’t ask about then he told me to ignore that. “You’re an amateur so if you make a mistake nobody will chew your head off.” His technicians fitted the “wire” under my shirt, taping the transmitter to the small of my back. I had the writ requiring the school to give me Barbara’s records and I had the document from the town clerk that certified that we were married. I was loaded for bear when we left police headquarters at 8:45. I followed the police department van almost all the way to St. Claudia’s. We double checked the transmitter and I gathered all of the papers I would need, including a set of photos of Barbara’s back. Unlike those that would be used as evidence, these were dated, but not labeled “Yonkers PD.” I walked the final two blocks to the school once Barbara had kissed me and wished me luck.

Once in the main office I approached the counter, asking to speak with the principal. “May I ask the nature of your business,” asked the secretary, a woman named Virginia Gregory according to the name plate on her desk.

“I’m here to talk about Barbara Millard. Well, she used to be Millard, but now she’s French. We were married last Thursday even though we had planned our wedding to be after the end of the school year. That was because of what happened here last Monday.” I saw the shocked acknowledgement in the secretary’s face as she walked into the principal’s office. I could hear some hushed conversation before a woman who was obviously Sister Mary Theresa walked out. She was dressed in what could be best described as contemporary attire for a nun rather than the traditional habit.

“I don’t believe that I should discuss anything about Barbara with you. You are not her guardian and we have privacy issues to deal with.”

“Then you’ll be happy to see that I have come prepared. Here is my passport to identify me.” She took it, handling it like it was an angry rattlesnake before returning it to me. “Next is a notarized letter from the Eastchester Town Clerk certifying that Barbara and I were married last Thursday. I also have an order from the New York State Court of Appeals requiring you to give me Barbara’s official records. She is withdrawing effective immediately.” Sister took the papers, scanned them quickly then practically threw them onto the secretary’s desk.

“While I’m here I demand the return of her engagement ring. Sister Mary Patrick wrenched it off her finger.”

“You have no proof of that.”

“I don’t think I’d have too much difficulty with that. She did it in front of the entire class.”

“Why are you concerned about that cheap trinket? It wasn’t even gold and I doubt that it was even a diamond.”

“You are right; it isn’t gold. It’s platinum just like her wedding band; and just like mine. I even have the receipt right here.”

“May I see it?” I pulled a yellow form from my pocket and passed it over the counter.

She laughed as she tore it into tiny pieces then dropped them into my hand. “You’re not as smart as you think, Mr. French. Where’s your proof now?”

I carefully placed the tiny pieces into an envelope, sealing it with saliva from my tongue. “Apparently, I’m not quite as stupid as you think. That was a receipt for a tire I bought for my Jeep. Besides; how would you know it wasn’t gold if Sister Mary Patrick didn’t take it? While I’m on the subject of Sister Mary Patrick I’d like you to take a look at these photos that were taken at the Cross County ER Monday afternoon. How do you justify beating a student like this? I attend a public school. They don’t get to select their students the way you do, but nobody has ever been struck by a teacher let alone whipped the way Barbara was.”

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? You know nothing about running a school. We have more than four hundred students here. Parents send their daughters here because they want them to have discipline in their lives. So what if five or six girls take a beating every year? Fear of that keeps the others in line.”

“You must be kidding. You’re telling me that this is a long-standing practice; something you’ve condoned for years?”

“Not condoned, Mr. French; I don’t condone whipping the students. I encourage it. I did the whipping before Sister Mary Patrick began teaching here. Now I’m principal and she does it. And she does a very good job of it, too.”

I shook my head in disbelief, but I wondered if I could get just a bit more information from this blabbing bitch. “I’m going to complain to the Archdiocese. I’ll find out who’s in charge. You can count on that and I’ll file a formal complaint.”

“Let me save you the trouble. The priest in charge is Monsignor Edwin Moran, but he already knows and gives the practice his blessing. If you complain too strenuously you’ll run the risk of excommunication. Then you’ll burn in hell for eternity.” I almost laughed. I would have but for fear that I really might burn in hell for eternity.

“Just give me Barbara’s records and let me get out of here before I throw up. You have no business running a school and less being a servant of Christ.”

“Virginia, get the papers then show Mr. French to the door. Lock it once he’s gone.” Sister Mary Theresa turned then and walked back into her office, slamming the door as she did. Mrs. Gregory had already retrieved the file and handed it to me as she walked around the counter. Once out in the hallway she looked around then placed a small piece of note paper in my hand. She opened the door and closed it without uttering a sound.

Only when I was away from the building did I unfold the paper and read it; “I have info. Call tonight.” It was followed by her phone number. Five minutes later I rejoined Barbara and Lt. Flanagan.

“Damn, Jack; you sure you’re not an undercover officer? I couldn’t have done better myself. Getting a subject angry is an old police trick. It is absolutely amazing what people will say when they’re pissed off.”

“Let’s hope that luck holds when I meet with the honorable monsignor.” Barbara joined me in the Olds as we drove to Dunwoodie where Monsignor Moran maintained his office.

Lt. Flanagan stopped us a few blocks away to tell us that a lengthy phone call had been placed from the school to the Archdiocese headquarters. “I think you’d find the conversation particularly revealing. They discussed the entire conspiracy and we were right. They’ve been beating at least six girls a year for more than twenty years. In fact the practice dates back to the first year the school opened.”

Moran was forewarned, but I was forearmed. I told his secretary; a priest; that I wanted to discuss my pledge and was shown immediately into the big man’s office, even though he was only five feet five inches tall. I had thought last year that it was awfully ostentatious for someone who had supposedly taken “a vow of poverty”; his words, not mine. He stood to greet me and got right to the point. “I understand that you think you have a grievance against St. Claudia’s School.”

“You might say that. I was brought up to think that stealing was a sin. Isn’t taking something that doesn’t belong to you stealing?”

“You’re an intelligent young man, French, but you’re inexperienced in the way of the world. Teachers in all schools; even yours; sometimes confiscate items that are disruptive and interfere with the educational process.”

I smiled. This fool was going to trap himself with only a minimum of effort on my part. “You and I both know that there was no reason to take the ring. Why didn’t the teacher simply tell her to put it away? In her pocket or purse the ring would have no longer been a distraction. And once the nun had it, why not return it when the student promised not to wear it again? Why was it necessary to whip her?”

“I’m sure that you understand the need to maintain discipline in schools. Sometimes it is necessary to make an example of a student. In my experience such a whipping leaves one uncomfortable for a few days, but leaves no permanent damage. It’s really nothing more than a mild spanking.”

I opened the envelope with the photos of Barbara’s back. “You honestly think that this is a mild spanking? Either you’re a liar or you’re delusional. How would you like to be on the receiving end of this? I’m sure I could arrange it; a special present just for you.”

“You’re treading on dangerous ground, Mr. French. People have been excommunicated for less.”

I laughed. I actually laughed in his face. “I just knew that you’d threaten me sometime during this discussion, but it won’t work. Those threats only work with someone who actually cares and I don’t. Parents send their daughters to your schools and you beat them into submission because you don’t really know anything about children or how to deal with them. This has been going on for ages even though the practice should have ended in the middle ages. That teacher is a criminal and the principal has done nothing and you’ve done nothing. That makes you criminals, too. The teacher is a horrible excuse for a human being, but the two of you are worse; the most detestable examples of humanity I’ve ever seen. If anyone is going to burn in hell, it’s you.”

I wanted to get the monsignor angry and now he was furious. He swore at me and cursed me and made every justification imaginable for his actions and those of the teacher and principal, ending by threatening me again. “It won’t work because we quit. We don’t want any part of a religion that thinks it is acceptable to treat its believers in such a horrible inhuman manner. One other thing before I walk out the door; hell will freeze over before I give you a stinking penny.”

“You gave your word; your pledge.”

“Yes, I did, but that was before I found out what kind of lying manipulative and sadistic bastard you are. It’s too bad, actually, because I can use the tax deduction. But, maybe my next church can use the money. Barbara and I spent part of Easter in a Lutheran church. We enjoyed the service and we were welcomed like we were family. Best of all, there’s one just up the road from St. Catharine’s. I imagine they could use two hundred thousand dollars.”

“Your pledge was for one hundred thousand.”

“Yes, it was, but that was then. I suddenly find that I’m in a really generous mood; just not for you. I wish you luck, Monsignor. I think you’re going to need it.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You figure it out. You’re the one with all the answers here.” I collected the photos, turned and walked away laughing crazily as I strode through the door. The priest/secretary put a restraining hand on my arm, but a steely look on my face caused him to step back quickly. “Smart move,” I whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Had anyone read my eyes they would have seen someone willing to kill if necessary. Ten seconds later I was in the parking lot and a minute after that I was in the police van.

Lt. Flanagan spoke first. “Good job, Jack. He hung himself with his own words. No judge will ever accuse us of entrapment.”

“I find that most arrogant people just can’t help themselves. They insist on putting their feet in their mouths at every opportunity. Oh; I almost forgot. The secretary at St. Claudia’s gave me this note when she escorted me from the building.”

I pulled the sheet from my pocket and handed it to him. He perused it for a few seconds. “She probably gets off at four so if you can come to the station at five we’ll be able to phone her. I’ll have a warrant to record the call by then given what’s happened this morning.”

“I was hoping to drive to Massachusetts this afternoon, but I’m sure I can change my appointment from tomorrow morning to afternoon.” We talked for a few more minutes until Barbara and I drove away toward home.

Once there I phoned the admissions office at Harvard, asking to speak with Mrs. Atkins. She was on the line after the third ring and I explained that I was working on a case with the Yonkers Police and, of course, that led to a host of questions. I began by explaining that I had asked Barbara to marry me. “You’ll meet her tomorrow and you’ll see why we got married in a hurry. And, no, it’s not the reason you think it is. She was the victim of a brutal attack and I’m helping the Yonkers police get evidence against those responsible. The crime is all the more reprehensible because school and church officials are involved, but I’ll explain everything tomorrow afternoon. I hope to drive a few hours tonight after the police are finished with us and we’ll get into Cambridge mid-morning. I’d like to meet with you after lunch if that’s possible.”

“I’m free all day so come whenever you can. Okay?” I agreed and Barbara and I spent a few hours hanging out with my family; Barbara and Carole starting a huge War tournament; until it was time to pack a week’s clothing and drive back to the Yonkers PD, Of course, I had to listen to my mother remind me to drive carefully. I promised I would and we’d stop before dark.

I was on a phone that recorded the conversation by 5:00 when I dialed.

The phone was answered almost immediately by a young girl. “Hi. Is your mommy home?”

“May I ask who is calling?”

“Wow, you have excellent manners. Would you tell your mom that John French is calling?”

“Mom! It’s that kid you told me about.”

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Gregory, it’s John French. We spoke briefly at St. Claudia’s this morning. Please call me Jack. Your note said you have some information for me.”

“I don’t know if you can help, but I’ve just about had enough. The way they treat some of the girls is just barbaric.”

“I agree, but how do you know about these beatings? And I assure you that I can help you.”

“I pray you’re right. Every time Sister Mary Patrick beats a girl she files a written report with Sister Mary Theresa. They’re in a special file in her office. How can you help me; and the girls?”

I looked at Lt. Flanagan and he nodded. “Mrs. Gregory, I’m working with the Yonkers Police. I was wearing a wire when I spoke to Sister this morning and I’m calling you now from their headquarters. If you’ll hold on a second I’ll let you speak with Lt. Flanagan. He’s running the investigation.”

I passed the phone to him and he spoke to Mrs. Gregory for almost fifteen minutes. “Mostly,” he told her, “just go about your business normally. It will take a few weeks for us to get everything together. For one thing both Jack and Barbara will have to testify before the grand jury. I think that will take place next week. Once the grand jury indicts we’ll act quickly against Sisters Mary Theresa and Mary Patrick as well as Monsignor Moran and possibly others, as well. Do these reports have the names of the students who have been beaten?”

“Yes, sir. Will I have to testify, too?”

“Probably not, but we’ll want to know where that file is. Do you know how far back it goes?”

“I’ve worked at the school for more than ten years and I know it was in existence then. Sister Mary Theresa told me and she showed me, too.”

“I’m sure we’ll have a search warrant for the main office and for the classroom where the beating occurred, but it will be a help if we know where to look ahead of time. Can you come to the station house tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, if I have to, but Sister always wants to know if any of the staff is contacted by the police. She says it reflects poorly on the school, but I think she’s just being bossy and controlling.”

“I have your address here. You’ll be stopped on the way to work tomorrow morning and given a summons for a non-working taillight. It will be fake, of course, but it will give you a reason to come here. The officer will simply unplug the bulb from the socket and we’ll plug it back in when you’re here. I want to thank you for your help. I just had a thought. Do any of the other staff members know about this?”

“Almost all of them, unfortunately; Sister Mary Patrick likes to brag.” The conversation ended a minute later and Barbara and I began to leave.

“We’ll be in Massachusetts for most of the week, Lieutenant. We have to find a place to live while I’m in college and we have to find a college for Barbara, too.”

“Where are you going?”

Barbara couldn’t wait to brag about me. “Harvard; and Jack has a full academic scholarship, too.”

“Wow! I knew you were smart, but; . You’d better get going if you’re driving tonight. Thanks for one of the most productive days I’ve seen in years.” He shook our hands and showed us out to the parking lot. I drove us back on the Cross County Parkway to the Hutchinson River Parkway North. That changed to the Merritt Parkway and eventually to the Wilbur Cross once we were in Connecticut. We stopped at a motel on the Berlin Turnpike just outside Hartford for the night. I called Mom to let her know how things were going and after that I phoned Stanley Silverman. He was thrilled to learn there was a file with the names of everyone who had been beaten over the years. Oh boy! I could hear the cash register in his brain even from more than a hundred miles away.

We take the first steps.

We drove into Massachusetts Avenue and found a place to park about a block away near Harvard Yard, the name given to the main campus. The time was just after ten. Mrs. Atkins had said to come any time so we walked together to the Admissions Office, finding her at her desk. I introduced Barbara and we took our seats. The very first thing I did was pass the folder of photographs across the desk.

“I had asked Barbara to marry me the previous Friday night; Friday before Palm Sunday. She wore her engagement ring to school on Monday and there was a bit of a disturbance among her classmates when they first saw it. The nun who was teaching the class grabbed Barbara by the wrist and wrenched the ring off her finger. Later, just before noon, Barbara approached the teacher and asked to have the ring returned.”

“I told her that I wouldn’t wear it to school again, but she grabbed me by the elbow and yanked me into her classroom. She called me all kinds of names. Whore and slut were the kindest. And; .”

I could see Barbara having difficulty recounting the incident so I jumped in. “The results of that incident are in this folder.” I sat back as Mrs. Atkins opened it for the first time, gasping as she first saw the photographic evidence of the hell that Barbara had been through.

“Barbara drove my car to my parents’ house and my mother called me at school. I phoned my attorney who told me to take her to an emergency room in Yonkers while he phoned a friend who is a detective. I think you can imagine what happened next. One of the things that the nun told Barbara was that she had been beating girls for almost twenty years and that the principal knew all about it. Yesterday I went to the school to get her records and to demand the ring and action against the teacher. It was an interesting conversation because I was working for the police, the entire thing was recorded, and she basically screwed herself and the monsignor from the archdiocese who is second only to the cardinal. Later he did the same for her and himself, too. That’s what we were doing yesterday. There’s more, but I think you’ll be able to read all about it in the newspapers even up here in Massachusetts.

“The reason I asked for the meeting is that I won’t be in a dorm. I need to find an apartment to rent. Can you point us to something worthwhile?”

“The one thing I strongly suggest is that you stay away from any of the nearby apartment buildings. They are primarily for students and they tend to be noisy and there have been a lot of problems with the police. I suggest you try to find a house to rent if you can afford it. I can recommend a real estate agent if you like.”

“That would be great. Next question; Barbara was set to attend a college in New York, but now she’ll obviously be here with me.”

“I know about St. Claudia’s. It’s a fine school. Tell me something about your experiences there, Barbara.”

“Well, the first thing I can tell you is that I’m not in Jack’s league. I had a B+-A- average at St. Claudia’s. I wanted to study business management in college and I had a score of 1210 on the SAT.”

“I’d like to suggest Lesley University. I happen to know that they have openings for September, especially since you won’t need a dormitory room. Some students fail to understand that they need to maintain their grades during senior year so occasionally college acceptances are revoked. My husband is Director of Admissions there. Why don’t I call him for you? Incidentally, Lesley is almost next door here in Cambridge.”

“What is the school like,” I asked.

“It’s much smaller than Harvard and it’s more for students like Barbara; good students, just not good enough for a school like this. Their programs in business and education are well regarded. How long will it take to get Barbara’s records?”

“Um; about ten minutes; I have her records in the trunk of my car. I had planned to give them to my school next Monday when Barbara registers.”

“You know, a lot of public schools won’t accept a married student.”

“I have that covered. My attorney has secured a writ from a judge of the New York State Court of Appeals. That’s the state’s highest court. The writ orders the school district to accept her. Apparently, there’s nothing in the state law barring married students, but the cost of fighting the school’s decision is more than many can afford.
 
“I know that colleges don’t want records that come from students because of the potential for cheating, but I could have lied about having them.”

“Hmmm. Okay, can you get them for me? I’ll phone my husband while you’re gone.” I was out of my chair in a flash, remembering to give Barbara a quick kiss before disappearing onto the sidewalk.

Mrs. Atkins wasted no time, picking up the phone as soon as Jack was out the door. I was nervous as I sat there. I had never imagined that I would be able to find a college so easily or so quickly. I listened carefully as Mrs. Atkins spoke to her husband.

“Morning, Roger, I’m going to do you a big favor and send you a young woman as a prospective student in business.” She continued after a short pause. “Yes, she’s here in the office as we speak. Remember last night when I told you about the outstanding student-athlete who was coming to see me? The student I’m referring to is his wife. They have an extremely interesting story to tell you. I’m going to look over her records in a few minutes. I’m sure they’ll tell you why they have her official records. Yes, I know, but in this case I’m sure they’re real. You can take me out to dinner if it works out for you. Okay; bye, dear.”

“Is everything okay,” I asked.

“Yes, Barbara; he’ll see you this afternoon and he’ll arrange for a student to take you on a tour. You’ll find Lesley to be an intimate place. There are about 4,500 students, but most of them are part-time graduate students either in education or business. Those are their two claims to fame. There are only about 1200 undergrads, but because of the graduate students the library and other facilities are really very good as is the faculty even though they lack the snob appeal the faculty has here. Truthfully, I like many of their instructors more than ours. They’re more down to earth. I think you’ll enjoy the tour. How many students in your school?”

“St. Claudia’s has about 400 students; all girls, but I’m sure you understand that.” I was about to continue, but Jack rushed back into the office, passing a grey folder across the desk to Mrs. Atkins.

“Wow, I guess you do have the official records. How’d you manage this, anyway?”

“My lawyer’s brother-in-law is a judge. He explained what had happened to Barbara and asked for an order for the records. It was either give them to me or my attorney would have phoned the police. What they don’t know is that my lawyer had already phoned the police and they are definitely involved. Mind if I ask what your religion is?”

“Not at all; we’re Episcopalians. Hardly anything is a sin to us. I know all about Catholic guilt. There are probably millions of Catholics in the Boston area.” She stopped chatting then and began to peruse Barbara’s records. After about ten minutes she took a pad and pencil to check some figures. “Okay, Barbara, I compute your academic average to be; 88.4 percent. You won’t have any trouble at Lesley.” Reaching into her desk she retrieved a multicolored map of what I presumed was Cambridge. “Here’s a map of the area. I’m circling the address for you. It’s only three blocks away. I’ll phone my husband once you leave and he’ll expect you between 1:00 and 1:30.

“If you want a good, cheap place for lunch try Elsie’s behind the west end of Harvard Square. Their hot pastrami can be a bit fatty, but it’s really good. Just turn left outside and go straight ahead through the Square. Turn right and you’ll see it on the left. I’ll tell my husband to suggest a real estate agent for you, too. He knows several good ones in the area.” She stood, shook our hands and Jack led me outside into the beautiful sunny day.

We did have lunch at Elsie’s and Mrs. Atkins’ assessment was right on track. We left, following the map, in plenty of time to meet with Mr. Atkins. He met us in the lobby and escorted us to his office. “Barbara, I’d like to take a look at your records even though Sandra has already done so.” He continued a few minutes later after quickly scanning Barbara’s file. “Okay, everything seems to be in order. If you like what you see here today you can come back and complete an application.”

“Under the circumstances with my school I don’t know how I will get any references.”

“Well, let me hear your story and then I’ll decide what we’ll do.” He sat back in his chair, but listened carefully; stopping Barbara and me several times and I could tell that he had some doubts until I slid the folder of photos across his desk.

“Who took these pictures?”

“I don’t know his name, but he was the Yonkers Police photographer. Barbara’s back has been so bad that even this morning I was only able to touch it to apply an ointment and bandages. I don’t know how she was able to handle the drive up here.”

“I understand that you married her to protect her.”

“Yes, sir; that’s correct. I promised that I would love, cherish, and protect her when I proposed so I would never allow her to return to that school. Unfortunately, her foster parents would have insisted had I not stepped in.”

“Foster parents? Are you an orphan, Barbara?”

“Yes sir; technically I was a ward of the state since my parents died when I was three. I’ve been lucky until now to have the same wonderful foster parents the entire time. I’ve heard some real horror stories about other kids.”

“Yes. Hmmm. Okay! I have someone waiting outside to take you on a tour. She’s a sophomore. Let’s go find her.” We stepped outside into the lobby and an attractive brunette stood. Mr. Atkins introduced us to Michelle Baker then left us to her. I could easily understand why she would be chosen as a guide. She was knowledgeable, bubbly, and gregarious with an excellent sense of humor. We had a great time with her over the next hour and I had to agree with her. Lesley was an interesting and friendly place. We were stopped and greeted several times by students and staff alike. I could tell by the expression on Barbara’s face that she would make every effort to enroll.

It was almost five by the time Barbara had finished her application and had received Mr. Atkins’ approval. “I’m just looking for a reason to take my wife out to dinner. She told me she’d thrash me if I didn’t accept you, but I would have under any circumstances. I think you’ll fit in well here.” He recommended a real estate agent in the area and marked the address on our map. We shook hands and left, with Barbara elated and me relieved. Now we only had to find a place to live.

Rather than return to our motel in nearby Belmont I drove us into Boston toward Faneuil Hall and Durgin Park. I had heard about this place when I was here with my parents, but Dad didn’t want a big meal. Now, even after a big lunch I was starving, I guessed from all the nervous energy I had expended during the day. Apparently, Barbara agreed because we each ordered their huge prime rib as we sat side by side in the middle of a long table with about twenty other patrons. I enjoyed the company and it seemed that they did, too.

Several diners asked why we were here, immediately recognizing our New York accents. We explained that I was headed to Harvard and Barbara to Lesley and that brought another whole series of questions and comments. But when someone noticed my height and asked if I played basketball Barbara couldn’t contain herself. You would have thought that I could walk on water to listen to her, but when she said the words “All-American” the men at the table went wild. They wanted to know all my statistics and were disappointed that I didn’t know most of them. “I only know that we won 129 games and five state championships in a row. That’s all that matters.”
Then Barbara mentioned that I played baseball, too and I was relieved when our huge slabs of meat arrived.

We were stuffed when we left the restaurant and eating like that always makes me tired so by the time we arrived at the motel I was ready to sack out. Barbara, however, had other ideas. Remember that part where she told me she was going to show me her love every minute of every day? She wasn’t kidding. First, she dragged me into the shower. It was close quarters in the tub; so close that Barbara’s succulent breasts were constantly rubbing into my body as she carefully ran her soapy hands over my torso and especially over my cock which responded strongly in spite of my exhaustion. Who would ever think that taking a shower could be so much fun?

Finally, Barbara handed me what was left of the tiny bar of soap and I had the opportunity to return the favor. After more than a week of pain she was at last able to tolerate my touching her back. There was still discomfort, she told me, but that was all. I rubbed in the ointment until it dried, but the bandages were no longer needed.

“I’m looking forward to doing missionary again,” she whispered as we climbed into the bed. “I enjoy wrapping my legs around you and forcing you as deep as possible into me.” I thought that was a great idea, too. As predicted, Barbara had gotten her period on Saturday while we were at the bungalow. I would never have guessed how horny having it would make her. Her only restriction was no oral on her. Twice she had sucked me to completion, swallowing every drop my testicles and prostate could produce and I had always thought that was a lot.

Tonight it would be cowgirl. For one thing we still had to consider the injuries to her back. For another, Barbara thought it would be neater. She would rush to the bathroom to insert a tampon then return to me with a wet washcloth to wipe her blood from my organ. That’s what she had done almost a dozen times over the past four days although being home with my parents and sisters had crimped our style considerably.

Barbara pulled the bedspread and blanket down as I lay on the left side of the double bed. She carefully placed her body perfectly on top of mine, her incredible breasts easily within my reach, as her lips sought and found mine. Her tongue spent more time in my mouth during these sessions than it did in hers. Barbara’s love and passion for me never failed to amaze. Reaching between her legs I found her extremely wet and eager. I grabbed my rod and aimed it in the direction of Barbara’s slit. She did the rest, beginning with a slow sensual rhythm.

I was tempted to move my hands behind my head so I could relax and watch Barbara in action, but her firm breasts with their hard swollen nipples were irresistible. I rolled them gently between my fingers while massaging each orb, knowing how much Barbara loved tit play. Sure enough, she threw her head back and drove that big sensitive clit into my hard muscles. In less than a minute she was humping me with abandon, developing the friction that would bring me to my inevitable climax even as the friction on her clit was doing the same for her.

I had read in the Kinsey Report that simultaneous orgasms were extremely rare. I wouldn’t know from our experience because Barbara and I had achieved that goal almost every time and from the tremors in our bodies I guessed we’d reach it again tonight. Suddenly, Barbara reached for the other pillow and held it to her face. It swallowed her scream just as my hips drove into her, lifting her body easily and holding it there until both of our climaxes had ebbed.

I had shied away from wrapping Barbara in my arms for fear of hurting her, but tonight she pulled my arms up and around her body. “Damn, Jack, but I’ve missed this. I’ve always felt so loved in your arms. Unfortunately, I have to get up.” She kissed me and jumped out of bed, trotting to the bathroom. It was fascinating watching her insert the tampon then washing her groin with the wet cloth. Barbara and I were very open with each other. We pissed and moved our bowels in front of each other and I’m sure we’d wipe each other if necessary.

Barbara cleaned me then rinsed the washcloth in the basin and returned to lie on my body as she had every night since we had begun making love. I pulled the blanket over us, kissed Barbara and turned off the light. We fell asleep almost immediately after a long but productive day.

We were up early and asked the motel office where we could find a decent breakfast. They sent us up the road to a big shopping mall where there were several restaurants in outbuildings. We found one that was like a diner; well, it was the closest thing we could find. I assumed that diners weren’t all that big in Massachusetts. We ate heartily not knowing what we might find for lunch.

Following our map we arrived at the real estate agent’s office just after nine. Sara Kline was a woman in her forties and it was obvious that she was a native from her accent. She had several ideas that we found helpful. She suggested that we look in neighboring Somerville, a blue collar community nearby because property values were somewhat lower there and also that we think about buying if we planned to be here for at least four years. “I’m sure you’re aware of the problems with renting. When you leave you get nothing back. On the other hand you are responsible for maintaining the house and yard if you buy. Here that means shoveling a lot of snow.”

She drove us around for more than three hours, first showing us several apartments. They were much as Mrs. Atkins had described. The hallways were littered and there was loud music bursting from apartments even though it was only mid-morning. Next she showed us several houses that were for rent. While they were quieter, they were all in poor physical condition and one house had a front porch that I was sure would collapse under my weight.

Finally, she showed us four houses that were for sale. I remembered several things my parents had said about when they were looking. I checked floor plans, knowing that nothing we looked at would be ideal. We wanted three bedrooms; a fairly big one for the master and one for a study center. The third we could use for storage or as a guest room in case we had a little visitor for a weekend. I knew that Carole would love to come for a few days. I also wanted at least one and a half baths and an eat-in kitchen would be a plus. The first two we saw were too small. One had windows that were ancient without working storm windows. Replacing them would be a major expense. The second had terrible water pressure and the third bedroom was smaller than the closet in Big C’s bedroom. It helped that I had worked summers and weekends for my dad. I checked out all of the plumbing to make sure it was up to snuff with copper supply piping and galvanized and cast iron wastes. I also checked out the fixtures; sink, basins in the bathrooms, toilets, and tubs.

The third house was a big improvement. There was a small nook off the kitchen where we could eat most nights and the master bedroom was twelve by fifteen; big enough to handle most bedroom furniture sets easily. There was also a small powder room; basin and toilet; between the kitchen and living room. It had a full basement with a decent oil burner that had been replaced only five years ago. It was on a slight hill so water from snow or rain would drain away from the house. The lot was small, but that was the norm in Somerville.

The fourth house was okay; better than the first two, but not as good as the third. Mrs. Kline told us that the husband had been transferred and that they were eager to sell. Asking $18,500, we offered $16,500. I knew that they would come back with a counter offer and we’d make another before we settled. How could I know that? I’d had two flashes while riding in the car.

Earlier, when we had just entered her office, Mrs. Kline had asked if we could handle a mortgage with all of the other expenses we would have. “I think we’ll stop off at Narragansett on the drive back so I can win enough for the year.” Barbara laughed at the expression on Mrs. Kline’s face so I briefly described my personal history, proving my point by moving her coffee mug across the table. I left a $100 deposit on the house before we left at 2:25 that afternoon. We opted for pie and ice cream rather than have a big late lunch then we returned to the motel so we could phone home.

We wanted to share our excitement and my family was totally thrilled for both of us. I told them we would drive home tomorrow; Thursday; but might not be there until Friday because we were going to make a stop in Rhode Island. When I shared our plans with Dad he asked if I could make a few bets for him. Of course, I agreed.

Once again I drove into Boston, but this time to a famous seafood restaurant on the harbor. Barbara had told me that she had never tried lobster. “It was always too expensive and we couldn’t afford it. In fact, we rarely ate out.” I was determined to change that. Mr. Atkins had told us that he planned to take his wife to a fabulous seafood restaurant on the harbor so that was where we were going now. Once there we settled into comfortable leather chairs at a table overlooking the harbor. We were early, arriving at five o’clock so we could be assured of getting a good table. Barbara asked me to order for her. “We’ll have the clam chowder, tossed salad with vinaigrette, and the two-pound lobster; steamed; with baked potato and ear of corn.”

The meal was fantastic and I was extremely pleased when Barbara showed her enjoyment of her first bite of the tender steamed lobster. Barbara was elated on the drive home. “I hope we can do this again, Jack. I loved the meal; really loved it. The soup was yummy and I liked the salad, too, but the lobster was out of this world. I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” I promised her we’d do it many times in the future, especially while we lived in New England. I already envisioned driving up to Maine for a romantic weekend.

The following morning we drove first to the Lesley bookstore where we bought tees and sweatshirts then we stopped at the Harvard Coop where we repeated the purchases with Harvard gear. Of course, we remembered my sisters and parents, including them in our purchases. Our arms laden with bags we stopped off at the Admissions Office to thank Mrs. Atkins for her help. Once we had everything stowed in the trunk we headed south starting at eleven, driving this time on the New England Thruway; I-95; which I knew went very close to Narragansett Race Track.

Of course, we had to show ID to bet, but I had my passport, mostly because it had my photo so there would be no question that I was who I claimed to be. I hadn’t bought a newspaper, but that wouldn’t be necessary. I got the same results from the racing form we bought once we had walked into the track’s restaurant. I didn’t get anything on the first race, but I did on the second, betting on a horse that went off at odds of 12 to 1. I bet ten for us and ten for dad. We had a return of $132.60 on each ticket. I kept Dad’s money in my left pocket and ours in my right.

I took the third race off, but bet on the fourth and fifth even though I didn’t get any flashes. I always bet and lost at least twice to avoid suspicious officials at the track. I bet twenty in the sixth race for us and for dad, receiving a decent payback of $392.20 on each bet. We made our real money on the ninth race, betting the exacta; twenty for us and ten for dad at more than 1900 to 1. I had to go into the para-mutual offices to collect, taking two certified checks in lieu of cash, which would have been bulky and possibly dangerous. All the same, I requested and received a security escort to our car. We left the track just after five, arriving home three hours later; in plenty of time to distribute our gifts to my sisters and cash to my appreciative parents. We learned then that both Lt. Flanagan and Mr. Silverman wanted us to phone them tomorrow morning even though it would be Saturday.

Barbara and I had showered and climbed into bed when she pulled me to her. “I love you, Jack and if I’ve learned anything over the past week it’s that life with you will never be boring.” Then she showed me one of the biggest reasons why. I fell immediately to sleep once she was done with me. My love had worn me out.

I phoned Lt. Flanagan at 9:30 the following morning, realizing that the number he had given Mom was different from either of the ones I had used to contact him at police headquarters. Thus, I wasn’t at all surprised when the phone was answered by a young child. “Hi,” I began. “My name is Jack French. Your dad asked me to phone him at this number.”

I had barely finished speaking when I heard the young boy scream, “DAD! IT’S THAT GUY YOU TOLD US ABOUT!”

“Hello, Jack; sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize, sir. I have three younger sisters and if the youngest, Carole, had answered the phone you would have heard just about the same thing.”

“I phoned you about your appearance at the grand jury. How is Wednesday morning for you and Barbara?”

“It’s fine Lieutenant. Barbara will register for school Monday morning and I’m sure the teachers will be very accommodating. Where do we have to go? Will you be there to meet with us?”

“I think it would be best if you meet me at headquarters and then I’ll drive you to the courthouse where the grand jury meets. It’s an old one and we no longer use it for criminal cases because the jail cells aren’t all that secure. How is 9:00 for you?”

“That will be fine. I’ll take Barbara into the office around 7:45 and give the secretary our note. If we leave by 8:15 we should be a bit early, but you never know with rush hour traffic.”

“Okay, Jack; see you then.” He rung off and I dialed Mr. Silverman. I knew that his children were older so I wasn’t at all surprised when he answered the phone himself. After the usual preliminaries he got right down to business.

“I found you a house to rent through the end of the school year. The owner will be in Little Rock on business for four months. He does want to meet you and Barbara. He’s heard of you, but I think he wants to be reassured.” He gave me the number and the address. I recognized it as being only about a half mile from school.

I took a few minutes to bring Barbara up to speed then dialed Mr. Grover’s number. I introduced myself and we spoke for a few minutes before he asked if we could stop by later that morning. We agreed on eleven and I rung off. “We’re going to meet the home owner at eleven. He lives close by the high school so I think we’ll be okay if we leave around 10:40.”

“I’m a little nervous, Jack. What if he doesn’t like us?”

“Then my family will be stuck with us.” Carole laughed while my parents gave a performance with fake grimaces that would never win an Oscar. Then Barbara did what she always did; she kissed me.

I knocked on the door to Mr. Grover’s house at 11:00 on the dot. He opened the door and invited us in. “I’ve heard a lot about you, John, but I’d like you to describe yourself and why you want to rent my home.”

“Okay, I’m sure you know that I’m a senior at the High School. In addition to playing football, basketball, and baseball I am also a very serious student. I’ll be valedictorian easily and I’ve been accepted at Harvard. That’s where Barbara and I were most of the week; looking for a place for us to live and, hopefully, get Barbara pointed in the right direction finding a college she can attend.”

“How did you make out?”

“Very well, sir; a woman in the admissions office pointed us to Lesley University which is very close by Harvard and her husband who works in the Lesley admissions office recommended a real estate agent to us. She found us a house that I’m prepared to buy in nearby Somerville.”

“You’re buying a house? Where is all this money coming from?”

“Money has never been a problem for me. I need to tell you a bit about my history. My brain changed dramatically when I was struck by lightning at age eight. That gave me some interesting abilities. For one thing my IQ increased by 76 points even though it was high beforehand. I can also do silly things like this.” I held my hand out and his fireplace poker flew into it. He looked on amazed. “I came into some money when I was eight and I’ve done well investing it. I bought IBM when it was about $5.00 a share. Since then it has split three times and now it’s almost fifty. I also have several other investments that have done equally well. I can pay you in advance, if you wish, rather than monthly.”

“What about parties? I would think a young man like you would enjoy an active social life.”

“Barbara and I have dated for months and in that time we went to one party; New Year’s Eve. We might entertain, but it would be a small crowd, more than likely just my basketball teammates and their girlfriends for dinner and TV later, but not a party and never anyone else. Barbara and I are both eighteen, but we don’t drink. We did have one glass of champagne at a Broadway play back in December, but that’s all.”

“I’d need to have you out of the house by July first.”

“Not a problem; I anticipate that we’ll go to Massachusetts once school is out. We have to buy a bed, furniture, desks, and I think we’ll need some new carpets, too. We need to have all of that done before school starts in September.”

“One final concern; you and your wife; I understand that you had to get married.”

“I don’t know where you got that idea, Mr. Grover, but you’re wrong. I offered to marry Barbara because she was badly beaten; whipped would be a better description by one of the nuns at her school. There was a disturbance when the other girls saw her engagement ring. The nun took it from Barbara and around noon Barbara asked to have it returned. Instead, the nun grabbed her, pulled her into the classroom, and whipped her mercilessly until she was able to break away. There was no way I would allow her to return to that school so I stepped in and married her. Now she’ll be able to attend the high school with me where I’ll be able to protect her.”

“Okay, you can stay here, but I’ll expect a $1,000 deposit as insurance.”

“That’s fine. I’ll have my attorney draw up a contract. You’ll have it by Monday afternoon.” We shook hands and I led Barbara out to the car.

To be continued, by Senor Longo.