Chapter 195: Jessica’s Guilt

Thursday, July 1, 1971

The next morning, I awoke to all the early morning activity in Southern Railroad’s Sevier Yard on the east side of Knoxville, Tennessee. Everyone else must have heard the activity as well because they were all stirring when I scanned.

“I’m sorry, Michael. This was as close as I could get us. The bus will be here shortly to take us to Townsend,” Grace told me.

“That’s fine. Is breakfast ready?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “You want me to check?”

“I’ll get it,” I told her. “I’m almost dressed.”

After breakfast, we drove straight to Townsend and dropped off John and Jeff and their families. Then I had the bus driver take us to Townsend High School.

There were fifteen of us on the bus. My wife, Ileana, my fiancée, Abby, and the Indian Princesses, Rose and Eve were all going to be registering for school with me. My staff, which included Grace, my other fiancée, Hanna, and apparently now, Shelby, along with my security team, Kip and Karla, were with me. As well as Aida, Sandy, and Narvenia, who, with Allie, and Jimmy, were tagging along to check out the school.

Robert, Cindy, and Melanie had stayed on the train.

The school seemed deserted, but the office was open. When our group trooped in, we almost filled the small office to capacity. The secretary, Mrs. Long, wasn’t sure what to do. Mr. Baumgartner, the principal heard the commotion and came out to check. When I introduced myself, he smiled.

“Your uncle said you would be here. We have all the court documents, so if you’d like to step into this office, I’ll have Mrs. McMullan get the paperwork,” he said.

“Can you have her bring five sets?” I asked.

“Five sets?” he repeated.

“Yes. My wife and my fiancée, and my two charges also need to register.”

“Your wife?” he repeated.

“Mr. Baumgartner, may I present my wife, Her Highness, Princess Ileana, of the Island Nation of Tapato. Also, my fiancée, Miss Atabei Montclair of New Orleans, and Princess Morning Star, and her sister, Princess Evening Star, of the Omugi Tribe in Colorado,” I said. “Their mother is the tribal chief, but they will be staying with me for the school year,” I added by way of clarification.

“You’re married?” he asked again.

“Not only am I married, but by the time school starts, Mr. Baumgartner, I’ll have two more wives. May I present my other fiancée, Miss Hanna Castlebury, of Longview, Texas. She’s a graduate of the University of Texas in Austin, so she won’t be enrolling here. My other wife is getting ready to become the Queen of Tapato, just as soon as the twins are born, so she won’t be able to attend either.”

“This ... this is highly irregular,” Baumgartner sputtered.

“That’s alright. President Nixon’s Chief of Staff, Bob Haldeman, and Secretary of State Rogers said that you could call either of them if there are any problems,” I told him.

“Just a moment,” he said, stepping back into his office and closing the door.

Before he finally emerged again, I think the whole school staff had found a reason to come by the office.

“I just spoke with the school board office,” Mr. Baumgartner started, “and they instructed me to start the registration process. However, they will have to be the ones to rule on this. Normally, married couples are not allowed IN HIGH SCHOOL.”

Remembering it was 1971, I didn’t argue and we went ahead and filled out the papers. Because they already had my emancipation papers, I was allowed to sign for myself. However, there was much confusion over who would sign for the princesses and Abby.

“No one signs for a Princess of Tapato,” Ileana said out loud to no one in particular.

“Just fill out the paperwork,” John thought to me when I contacted him. “Izzy and I can take care of the details later.”

While we were filling out the paperwork, Mrs. McMullen had arranged for everyone else to have a tour of the school.

An hour and a half later, Ileana, Abby, Rose, Eve, and I walked out with our tentative fall class schedules. They were all pending receipt of our last year’s transcripts. They were also pretty much the same, except they wouldn’t let me take PE with the girls.

Boarding the bus, we headed to Bradley and Skinner’s Architecture office in Knoxville.

Bradley and Skinner was the architectural firm I had hired to design and build my new home in Townsend. Roger Skinner, one of the principals of the firm, met us at the door and shook my hand warmly. Then he led us to their main conference room, where he had extra chairs brought in for everyone. He had also brought refreshments, for which I was grateful. After getting everyone else settled, he asked to see me in his office.

“Michael, it’s good to see you again. I want you to know that the whole firm has worked hard on this project and I believe you’re going to like what you see. However, I am also hoping that you can tell me what’s going on with Jessica? She was so happy when she returned, but then, she became sullen and withdrawn. She did her work, but she wouldn’t talk to me about anything except business. Then, knowing you would be here today, she called me last night and resigned.”

I had been putting this off. I knew what was going on, but because I had been so busy, I figured I would talk with her when I got here.

“Can you get her on the phone?”

“I’ll try,” Roger said resignedly.

“Jess, there’s someone who wants to speak with you,” Roger said when she answered, and then handed me the phone.

“Miss Skinner, This is Michael Wagner,” I said without waiting. “If you’re not in this conference room in fifteen minutes, I’m going to consider Bradley and Skinner in breach of contract. The next person your dad will hear from will be my attorney who will sue you and this firm for one hundred million dollars. I may not win, but I’ll guarantee you that your father will spend every dollar he has on attorney’s fees, until he is wiped out and penniless. Do you understand me?”

There was a long pause until I finally heard, “Okay, Michael.”

“You now have fourteen minutes,” I said as I hung up. I happened to know that she lived less than a mile from the office.

We all sat and talked with Roger and Steve, the foreman on our project, but I asked them to wait on the presentation, so we kind of talked around it. The model remained covered in the center of the conference table.

It was almost twenty minutes later when she walked in. She had on sandals, jeans, and an old UT football jersey. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore no make-up. Since I had been scanning her the whole time, I knew what she was feeling. I even let the other girls in on it, but not the adults or her dad. When she came in, she took a chair as far from me as possible and plopped down, saying nothing to anyone.