The Doctor and the War Widow (9 page)

Harley’s blood pulsed in her veins. She was sick of the prudish parents and their sex-crazed children but kept her voice even. “First, Sister, the sex in my books is never casual. Second, many of these kids are having hotter sex than the adults in my books. How many girls is it this year are returning after having babies? Didn’t we also have to suspend a couple of students who were caught kissing in the bathroom? My behavior has always been professional and appropriate with the kids.”

Sr. Elizabeth pursed her lips, staring at Harley through hooded lids. “A parent complained.”

“About my books?” Harley gaped in disbelief.

“The books and other things.” Sr. Elizabeth indicated a seat.

“No, thanks. I’d rather stand.” Harley met the nun’s hard gaze and stood before her, feet set apart. “May I ask who it was who doesn’t like my writing? Oh, and how my behavior has suddenly become a problem?” She had traditionally had good relationships with her parents. That those people could smile in her face at Parent’s Club meetings and then betray her to administration sent piercing knives through her veins. Her gaze narrowed. She saw the nun push her chair back, and a wave of grim satisfaction swept over her like a wave of freezing water.

“Let’s just say the Parent’s Club was involved.” Sr. Elizabeth flushed crimson as Danielle Troxler entered. Troxler was the disciplinarian. Too heavy and burned by tanning booths, she looked like an inflated balloon in a professional business suit. Her dull, brown hair hung limp around her shoulders, and her voice resembled a cat’s howl. Harley knew she’d once been military, but she certainly couldn’t serve or protect now.

Harley laughed bitterly. Deep anger gripped her heart like a fist. “Don’t tell me. It was Mary Ann Marks?” She turned to Troxler. “And I’m sure she brought this to your attention. You’ve waited to have something on me.”

Sr. Elizabeth looked away and was quiet for a long time. “Mary Ann’s name is Saltaformaggio now. You know that.”

Harley nodded and tossed her hands in the air. “Oh, yeah, I know all right. She and David were doing the nasty in the bushes behind the gym when we were kids. Before that, she was making fast and loose with Tommy D’Antonio. You know her oldest daughter, Mallory? She walked across the stage pregnant with little Melissa. The kid had worn big sweaters all school year.” Harley shook her head and smiled broadly. She was starting to enjoy the nun’s discomfort, and Troxler’s tan was beginning to change color. “By what I gather, Melissa’s rivaling her mother’s reputation.”

“Stop this character assassination.” Sr. Elizabeth pursed her lips and folded her hands primly on her desk. “I never knew you felt this way, and by what I hear, you have no reason to throw stones.”

“What in hell do you mean by my not having a right to throw stones?” Harley rested her closed fists on the nun’s desk and leaned close to her adversary. “I’ve been living like a cloistered nun since John died.”

Sr. Elizabeth laughed softly and shook her head. “Oh, yes, John. Well, you seem to have moved on.”

“What do you mean by that?” Harley moved around the desk to lean over the tiny nun.

“By what I hear, you’re behaving disgracefully with a foreigner. A Muslim.” Sr. Elizabeth met Harley’s gaze with defiance. To Harley, the little woman looked a cross between an outraged cartoon elephant and a religious Miss Piggy. “How could you betray your husband’s memory?”

Smothering anger threatened to strangle Harley. Blood pulsed through her veins as her whole body vibrated with red fury. “I’ve grieved for John every day of my life, Sr. Elizabeth. No one, no one, can know what I went through when men in uniform showed up on my doorstep. Not you, not some obese bureaucratic bitch, not bloody Mary Ann Marks or her spying little daughter can know the grief I went through. Mary Ann’s had everything her whole life. Her daddy spoils her, and so does her husband. One did it because she was his princess. The other one spoils her so he can screw his mistresses and she won’t care. David never was able to keep his appendage in his pants.” She turned to the fat bitch in the business suit. “And you couldn’t wait to hear the gossip, could you? I’ve stood up to you on academic issues, and you waited for your chance to malign me. You have only contempt for the parents, teachers, and students. You’re using these people.”

Troxler turned purple. Her voice became a shrill howl. “This all stops here. I remember your disrespectful emails. You’ll pay for your disrespect.”

Sr. Elizabeth gasped and said sharply, “Do be quiet, Danielle. You sound like an idiot.”

Harley drew a deep breath. Her chest pounded in her ears. She moved within inches of the old nun’s face, suddenly aching for her lover. No one was going to disparage him or anything he’d given her. Harley wanted to cry and run to the shelter of his arms, but not now. Her whole breast ached when she thought she’d lost him and prayed it wasn’t too late to make things right, but first, Harley had to do battle before she could seek the caress of his lips against hers. She prayed it wasn’t too late for a second chance. “Mary Ann and her little friends used to taunt my friend Mia endlessly. One day, they put her pencil case at the top of the stairwell when the bus was coming so she’d miss it. That group sold drugs under that same stairwell during the school year. Did you know that her daughter Mallory supposedly has a neat gig as a little pusher herself? She was our valedictorian two years ago.” Harley cast a contemptuous glance in Sr. Elizabeth’s direction. “That whole family has played this school, but you don’t care. They’re big contributors. Money talks in this sacred institution.”

The nun frowned and rose to her feet, reminding Harley of a peach on stilts. “I also resent the insinuation that I only care about people who contribute money. If I’d known about Mallory, I would have dealt with her, and I don’t care how much money David and Mary Ann give.”

“How dare you cast aspersions on the most honorable man to breathe God’s air?” Harley jabbed at finger at Sr. Elizabeth. “Do you only care about people when they’re white middle-class Catholics?” Harley cast a wide gaze on the nun and Troxler. “When I was a student here, you told us tales of what your people had suffered in Ireland under the British. You bragged about how your ancestors belonged to the IRA and Sinn Fein. You used to get on the side of the black students by saying that the Irish were the blacks of Europe. God, Sr. Elizabeth, you’re a foreigner yourself. You’re nothing but a hypocrite,” Harley hissed.

“No, Harley, I’m not, but I’ve known you and John almost your whole lives. Before I was principal here, I was principal at John’s grade school. You know that. I’ve known his mother forever.” Sr. Elizabeth turned from Harley and stared out of the window. She didn’t face Harley when she spoke. “You can’t imagine how you hurt Vera.”

Harley rolled her eyes. “Oh, Vera. Is that why you’re so upset?” Her relationship with John’s mother had been warm during John’s lifetime but was occasionally strained after his death. Though they still spoke and visited often, Vera had never forgiven Harley for using her maiden name after John’s loss. Harley sensed Vera’s love, but Harley knew that seeing her without John hurt Vera like a deathblow. Harley sometimes thought Vera would have loved if she’d burned herself on John’s grave.

“Vera is mourning her son, and you pushed her away. You showed her you didn’t want to be part of that family when you stopped being a Gaiennie.” Sr. Elizabeth rounded on Harley. “You even stopped using their name. Didn’t you ever think of her? She’d adored you. John was her only child, and she’d lost her husband years before. Vera needed someone, but you cut her out of your life.”

Harley felt the blood rush to her face. “I reverted to my maiden name because John’s name hurt too much.” The injustice of the old witch’s comments stung like a whip. When John had first died, Harley had been so hurt that she couldn’t face the good times they’d shared in her mother-in-law’s kitchen and living room for a long time. She’d steered clear of her mother-in-law for close to a year after John’s death, but they gradually called a truce. “Leave Vera out of this. I love her. She’s been cut out of nothing, and now I know why I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks.” She looked from the nun to Troxler. “You and the other gossipmongers have poisoned her against me, I guess. No one loved John more than I did, but I have to move on or wallow in grief. The man you’re so anxious to malign has given his life to helping others. He’s put others before himself, and he’s suffered because of it.” Harley drew in a breath, pacing from one end of the room to another. “He certainly doesn’t deserve to have people judging him like that tramp Mary Ann and her bratty daughters. You’re willing to condemn a man I’m seeing and disparage him because he’s Muslim. No one in this school is so pure, and the parents are no better. Of course, I’ve seen how narrow this country has become since 9/11, and I know our snooty, middle-class parents buy into this whole mindset.” She ran a hand through her hair and realized she was shaking. Hot waves of anger raced through her body. “The pope, however, is preaching tolerance. Our religion is reaching out to other faiths to build bridges.” She stared at the nun, who averted her gaze. “Was all of your talk on social justice and learning from history just talk?”

“I understand what you’re saying about justice, Harley, but you’ve been seen in a compromising position with this man. That’s the issue.” Sr. Elizabeth’s eyes almost bulged out of her head. “How can you justify—”

“Sister, every teacher in the school knows about these kids. You have at least two girls who pay other students to do their homework. Oh, and their mothers were alums, too.” Harley was amazed at how an aspersion upon Abisi’s character riled her very core. She cursed herself for not telling him she loved him. What she felt for him wasn’t what she’d felt for John, but the warmth cascading through her insides certainly wasn’t indifference. “You ask me how I can justify seeing a man of honor and principle. Let me tell you something about John. John was honorable and brave, too. He would have liked Abisi if he’d known him.” Harley stared at the nun with contempt. “How can you justify listening to the cruel tales of a bunch of nasty children and their parents?”

“Why didn’t any of the teachers tell me about these things you’ve told me?” Sr. Elizabeth gazed at her as if seeing Harley for the first time. “If my faculty hold this school and these kids in such contempt, why didn’t anyone bother to say anything?”

Harley gave an involuntarily low, derisive snort. “Some of the teachers have daughters who are friends with those girls. The other half were friends with Mary Ann when she was selling drugs and torturing Mia. I think the bullying brought on Mia’s depression. That’s when she killed herself and no one here even said a prayer for her. You all thought she was too sinful, as if not mentioning her actions would make them disappear.” Harley shook her head at the nun’s cluelessness. Sadness that the world was so closed and narrow twisted around her bowels. “Frankly, Sister, I wouldn’t stay here if I were offered a million dollars. The Bible condemns those who judge others. You’ve judged a good man and me. I don’t want to come back, but will report this whole incident to Bishop Bonura and the superintendent of schools. They may see things differently if they think the Equal Opportunity Office might give this school a call. I don’t think you’ll only have to worry about a few petty parents.”

The nun paled. She apparently hadn’t expected such a response or anticipated any kind of legal fight. “I’m very sorry you feel the way you do. You’re one of the most gifted teachers I ever had on staff.” Sr. Elizabeth cleared her throat. The silence that followed was unbearably long. “I also would never judge someone else. I’m sure your friend is a good person. The things I said to you weren’t just talk. I don’t want to condemn you or him. God knows my people were condemned enough, but you should talk to Vera. She can’t understand why you cut her out.”

“Look, I’ve been unhappy here for some time, but this whole thing has proven I don’t belong here.” Harley held out her hand to the nun. “You have to do what the parents want, but I have to expose them and their petty views to the church brass. We both have to do what we must.”

Sr. Elizabeth colored a deep red. “I’m so sorry it’s come to this, and I understand that you feel you must go to the Archdiocese.”

“You know what’s funny, Sister? I’m not sorry at all, but I am going to take this to the superintendent and the bishop. The church is promoting a spirit of ecumenical understanding. This school and the parents haven’t gotten the message. I have to bring it to them.”

Troxler drew near, her hand extended and her complexion even more discolored. “Harley, don’t take this personally. I wouldn’t want the diocese to think I was in any way prejudiced. I only reported what I heard.”

Harley ignored her hand. “Yes, only the innocent messenger.” She laughed dryly. “Remember what they did to them in Greece.” Turning to the nun, she laughed dryly, “Oh, Sister, our Number Two here has looked for jobs at other schools. She tells them you’re too controlling.” She heard Troxler’s gasp as she walked away.

Relief flooded through Harley’s veins like a waterfall as she turned on her heel. She went to her classroom and retrieved the small cactus that she’d brought with her when she began teaching. Every other supply could remain.

The other teachers whispered when they saw her walking down the hall. Some approached to offer their regrets. A school is a small community, and they all now knew of Harley’s secret life. Many of them also were friends with Mary Ann Marks Saltaformaggio
.
Harley suddenly understood why she never was comfortable here.

Jennifer approached her with what appeared to be sincere sorrow. “I’m really sorry this happened to you, Harley. You were the best teacher any of us ever had.”

“That’s sweet.” Harley embraced her. She’d been a good student when she attended the school. “You know what’s funny, Jen? I’m not sad at all. Not one iota.”

Several people promised to call her for lunch. She knew they wouldn’t. People grew preoccupied with their own lives and forgot those who fell off the radar. Oh, well, some loss was inevitable. Her mother always said that God never closed one door without opening another. Sometimes, people needed a kick in the ass to start moving.