Chapter 9: Endings and Beginnings (Part II)

It was the middle of March. Paul found himself seated on an airliner next to Ted Wilson on their way to Chicago. They had two items on their agenda that day. First, was the signing of the dismissal agreement on the Peoria lawsuit. Paul's and Leonard Raines' plan worked to near perfection. A small flap developed when the plaintiff's side asked for a 'hold harmless' clause. It was due to Paul's mention of Harry Carmichael's company's losses on account of the suit. For that reason Harry would be there to sign off, too. Ted had been suspicious at first, but decided in the end to accept the concession. It was worth it to put the episode at an end. Paul didn't mind Ted's circumspection. It was his job.

The second piece of business was to sign a new contract with Harry Carmichael's company for the Peoria construction.

As the plane bumped across the thermal updrafts over Lake Michigan, Paul thought about all those who should have been asked to sign the 'hold harmless' agreement. He thought of Glenda and her career, of his own lost stock options. Of course, Audrey had been hurt the worst. Even Craig Morehead was a victim in a certain way. Most of those touched had survived, but all were scarred.

Ted interrupted Paul's thoughts. "Who are you going to put in charge of the project, now that it's back on?"

"Jim Spencer," Paul replied. "He's in Europe right now on the Engineering Standards Project. When he comes back, I'll tell him to start handing that off to Harlow, piece by piece. After the plant is complete, I'm going to try to have him installed as Plant Manager. It would be just the right job for him at this stage of his career. It will give him a chance to get away from HQ for a few years and stand on his own two feet."

Ted nodded. "I don't know who you're going to get to replace him."

"I thought that I would start to bring Harlow along. He's a good engineer, but he needs to work on his leadership skills. I'm hoping to bring him in closer and give him some tutoring." The conversation energized Paul. It was one of the parts of his job that he liked.

"I don't want to rain on your parade," Ted went on. "Your name came in front of the Ethics Committee again last week."

"Oh, no!" cried Paul. He looked around the plane. He knew that the other passengers must have heard him over the sound of the jet engines. He lowered his voice. "What about this time?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you, so don't quote me. It has something to do with photographs you received of Hopkins and Judson. They tabled it for now. They'll decide later whether to take it up."

Paul told Ted the story of the photographs of Hopkins and Judson in their homosexual embrace.

"I shredded them!" Paul declared. "How can that be unethical?"

"They'll probably say that you should have reported it. Don't tell me where you got the photos. Then I'll have to tell them if they ask me," Ted advised. "I can tell you that Allison Greene is the one pushing it."

Paul had already guessed that, but kept silent on how he had stumbled across Greene's wanderings between Richardson's and her hotel rooms.

"That Ethics Committee is getting to be a real Gestapo," Paul declared.

"I would have to say that's true," Ted agreed as the plane bumped down on the runway. "In a year, they'll probably meet once a year over coffee. Since it's all new, they have to prove themselves."

The parties met to sign the agreements in a meeting room at the Federal courthouse in Chicago. It was a somber affair. The lawyers took on the persona of bureaucrats, signing and notarizing. Hopkins was present; Judson wasn't. He had his usual dour expression painted on his face beneath his beard. Leonard Raines had planned on attending but had a last-minute conflict. He sent a lawyer to represent him.

Larry Wilton showed up, flanked by an honor guard of attorneys. It irked Paul that he failed to ask about Audrey. Paul told him anyway. Wilton told him that Craig Morehead's case had cooled off. The court psychologist had declared him unfit for trial. Nothing had been done to extradite Grafton. Without Morehead's cooperation, it would never happen. Even if Morehead were so disposed, he lacked the mental competence to testify.

Paul made a note to ask Ted to write to the DA in Springfield to make sure that Morehead didn't make bail. He thought that it was essential for Audrey's safety. Normally, he would have asked Wilton to attend to it, but he didn't trust him to do so.

Harry Carmichael, the only one without a lawyer to guard him, was the last to sign. Everyone shook hands and prepared to leave.

"Paul, wait a minute," Hopkins called out as everyone was leaving the room.

Paul didn't really want to meet with Hopkins, but couldn't find a way to avoid it. The two kept silent until all had left the room.

"Well, you won," Hopkins said.

"Are you saying that I won because you didn't?" Paul asked.

"I guess so," Hopkins muttered.

"I have higher standards than that, Arthur," Paul declared. "No one won. It cost everyone involved. For some, it cost a lot."

"Your company can afford it. It was pocket change," Hopkins countered.

"Is that all you can see, Arthur?" Paul snarled. "What about a young woman who was raped by one of your flunkies. How about people with no jobs? How about Glenda?"

"What about Glenda?" Hopkins asked. "She's got a new job—better than her old one. She should thank me!"

"You chased her out the job that was her life. You made her a prisoner in her own home. You spied on us at the lake. I wouldn't say that she's better off."

"What about you, Paul? I heard you lost some big money. Of course, you lost your little romance with Glenda," Hopkins sneered.

"Did you keep me in here just to rub it in, Arthur? If you did, I think that we're finished." Paul tried to get angry, but although being with Hopkins was unpleasant, it couldn't get him excited. "I should have published those pictures of you. It would have served you right."

"You really did shred them. I never believed you," Hopkins said. "You're a boy scout at heart, Paul. That's why we could never be friends."

"Is that all, Arthur? I'm losing interest."

"No, in fact it isn't." Hopkins said, turning serious. "I wanted to tell you something. You'll be the first to know."

"I'm listening," Paul sighed.

"None of this matters to me anymore, Paul," Hopkins said as he turned melancholy. "I had a test last week and found out—I have AIDS. I never even knew I had the virus. I don't even know where I got it."

"Does Judson know?" Paul asked.

Hopkins shook his head.

"I hope you enjoy telling him," Paul said.

Before he left, Paul had one final word for his old enemy. He knew that he should have kept it to himself, but he let it out anyway.

"Arthur, I should say that I'm sorry for you—but I just can't."

Paul turned and left, leaving the downcast Hopkins in the room.

April was giving way to May. Paul looked forward to the warm weather. He had neglected his golf game the prior year—handicap up to twelve. He was determined not to let that happen again. He had a full plate at work. He was without the aid of Jim Spencer who was spending more time in Peoria. Bert Loehman had retired and he hadn't found a suitable replacement. He was thinking that a reorganization might be the right way to go. Nothing had come of the Ethics Committee warning given him by Ted Wilson a few months ago. He stopped worrying about it.

Harry Carmichael requested a meeting with Paul to go over a phase of the construction plan. Jim Spencer had briefed Paul already. Harry wanted to step up the pace, but he needed overtime money and wanted Paul to approve an add-on to the contract. Normally, Paul would rely on Spencer to make the call, but it was his first time so Paul decided to sit in. He asked them to meet him in Chicago. He would lay over for a night on his return from his East Coast trip. He had Marge set it up. Paul and Jim would drive up the next morning.

Paul landed at O'Hare at three in the afternoon on the appointed day. He was beat. The New Jersey facilities were complex and there were many issues stemming from a recent operational audit. One plant engineer was retiring in November and another was on shaky ground. He was thinking that he should have saved Spencer for one of those jobs. There was a lot to do. He thought that he would change into some old clothes and just have a sandwich in his room and watch the baseball game on the television.

The Drake was expensive, but Paul thought that it was worth it. It was an easy cab ride to the airport, and they had small meeting rooms available to guests. It would do fine.

"You have a message, Sir!" the woman tending the desk said as she handed him an envelope. Paul decided to open it when he got to his room. He refused the bellman's help and made his way to the elevator.

The contents of the envelope were a mystery. Paul had his cell phone with him. Marge could have reached him with anything important. After he set his bags down, he tore the envelope open. There was a note inside it, and a ticket to the Cubs game later that evening. Paul read the note. It was typewritten, which struck Paul as odd.

"I thought that you would like to see a game. I'll meet you there.

Harry

Going to the game ran counter to Paul's original plan, but it was a welcome change. The Cubs were playing the Dodgers. The game was at seven. Paul had plenty of time to shower and get a cab to Wrigley Field. While he was showering, he thought that he would razz Harry about spending money for ball games and then asking for overrun money on the same trip.

Paul arrived at the stadium at six-thirty.

"This world is in a sorry state when we have night games at Wrigley," he joked to the usher as he showed him to his seat. They both laughed. Paul knew that the older man would understand the joke, so he didn't mind dating himself.

Harry had gone all-out and bought box seats on the third-base side. It was the best side if there were close plays at the plate. Paul assumed that Jim Spencer and Harry would show up together, but so far they hadn't. Paul settled in and waited for the hot dog and beer vendors to come by.

Infield practice was finished; the players lined up at the dugouts for the national anthem. Paul stood as it played over the loud speaker. He was wondering where Carmichael and Spencer were. He wasn't worried. With or without them, he was looking forward to the game. He was hungry. Over his left shoulder he heard the vendor barking.

"Hot Daawgs HERE! Get your hot dogs here!"

Paul glanced to his left to see if he could get his attention, and hopefully spy a beer hawker, too. As his head was turned he felt the presence of a body taking the seat in his box just to the right of him.

"It must be Harry," Paul thought. He swung his head around to say hello.

As the words started to escape his mouth, he held them back. It was neither Jim nor Spencer who'd taken the seat next to him. For a few seconds he didn't know what to say, and the person seated next to him wasn't speaking either. Paul gathered himself. He could only blurt out what his mind told him.

"I gave up on ever seeing you again," he said.

"I've missed you," answered Glenda. "Are you glad that I'm here?"

It was a big question. He had a right to ask so many questions of his own, and receive satisfactory answers to them all.

"Yes," Paul answered. He paused and thought for a few moments. Glenda looked at him with searching eyes. "Yes, I am glad to see you." He leaned closer to her and threw his right arm around her shoulder. They relaxed into one another as though they had been apart for hours, not months. They leaned back together as the starting pitcher finished his warm-ups.

"Actually," she began, "I came to see you because you know so much about baseball. I've become a big fan."

"How's that?" Paul asked, deciding to play along.

"It's the 'Infield Fly Rule'," Glenda explained. "I just don't get it."

"When there are less than two outs," Paul recited, "with runners on First or..."

Glenda stopped him by reaching her left hand over his shoulder and holding Paul's head still with her right hand. She leaned over and her tongue danced in his earlobe.

"I'm advancing at my own risk," she whispered into his ear.

A broad smile drew across Paul's face, and then a laugh. Glenda eased back into her seat, unsuccessful at suppressing a grin.

"A young man, hearing those words that you just whispered in my wet ear, would pick you up and carry you out of the ballpark," Paul informed her. "He'd drag you back to his hotel room and have his way with you until the sun came up."

"That sounds interesting!" Glenda purred.

"Perhaps," Paul agreed, "but I'm an older man and..."

"Older and more experienced!" Glenda corrected.

"An older man likes to let the wine age a bit, if you know what I mean," Paul concluded.

"You're saying that you want to stay and watch the game. It's alright," Glenda laughed. "We'll have plenty of time."

"Let's have a beer," Paul suggested.

As the inning ended and they drank their beer Glenda turned serious.

"I have a lot to say to you. There are a lot of things I have to explain," Glenda said.

"Later!" Paul commanded. "Right now I just want to relax and enjoy being with you."

"Alright," Glenda agreed and pushed herself closer to him. She stroked his thigh a few times and then let her hand rest halfway between his knee and hip.

"So Harry Carmichael decided to play 'Matchmaker'. When did he give you the ticket?" Paul queried.

"It wasn't Harry," she answered. "It was Marge Bates. She set the whole thing up."

The Dodgers beat the Cubs. As usual, the Cubs were a pitcher short.

"I brought my car," Glenda announced as they were filing out of the stadium after the game. "I have a change of clothes so that I can go to work from the hotel."

Glenda drove. There was a line waiting to clear the parking lot. As they sat in traffic Glenda was eager to tell Paul about her job at the MERC.

"It's a lot faster pace than I had been used to, but the support is so much greater. It's certainly a lot more exciting," she told him. It was the first time that she had worked under a female executive, but she said that there was little difference.

"I'm making more money, but it's more expensive to work inside the loop. They even paid out some money to buy my pension credits," she went on.

"How are your Paralegal Courses going?" Paul asked. He knew as soon as he said it that he had given himself away. It was an accidental slip.

"It was you!" she gasped. "Shirley Kramer would never tell me who had set me up with her, but I always had a feeling that it was you. How else would you know about the paralegal courses?"

"Guilty as charged!" Paul confessed. "A guy named Ted Wilson—whom you're sure to meet one day soon—helped too."

Paul searched Glenda's face for signs of unhappiness. He knew that she valued her independence.

"Glenda," he continued, "all that I did was to arrange some circumstances so that you would have the chance to win the job. That's all I could ever do. You won the job yourself."

"I know, Paul," she agreed. "Thank you. You saved my sanity. I had to escape from Judson."

"I know." Paul said. "That's what I figured when the photos showed up."

"Marge Bates told me that you had her shred them," Glenda acknowledged. "Thank goodness! I was so angry and desperate. I thought that I had lost the job at MERC because there was a delay. I learned later that they were settling the pension money. After I sent them, I was ashamed, but it was too late."

"It's over now," Paul said.

Paul told Glenda about the resolution of the Peoria case. He left out the part about Hopkins having AIDS.

By that time, they arrived at the hotel. Glenda turned her car over to the valet attendant and took her garment bag and a small suitcase from the trunk. Soon they were in Paul's room at the Drake. It was almost eleven o'clock.

They didn't order drinks from room service. They didn't fumble with the controls for piped-in romantic music. Glenda brought a negligee, but left it in her suitcase. They didn't embrace, and then romantically undress each other, either.

Paul set down Glenda's suitcase, and hung her garment bag in the closet. Maid service had turned down the bed. Glenda marched to the head of king-sized bed and took the chocolates from the pillows and set them aside. She pulled the covers the rest of the way off. When she was finished Paul was standing at the foot of the bed waiting for her to finish.

She gave him a glance and kicked off her shoes. Paul did the same. The matched each other with the buttons of their shirts. Paul's slacks and Glenda's jeans soon followed.

Soon they were both clad only in their underwear. Glenda reached behind and unsnapped her bra. She threw it aside without ceremony. She was nude, save her panties. Her breathing quickened.

"Remember these?" she asked, holding up her small breasts and bringing back a memory of a day many years in the past.

"I remember everything!" Paul replied.

They looked at one another for a few long seconds. Paul yanked down his shorts. Glenda looked at his erect penis pointing at her. There were droplets of fluid leaking from the tip and falling to the floor.

"I can't wait to get in bed with you!" Glenda gasped as she slid her panties to the floor and stepped out of them.

They stepped forward and met, clutching each other. Paul bent down to engulf her mouth with his own. Each tongue lashed the other. He dropped his hands to her buttocks to clutch them, and then ran his hands the length of her slender back, digging his fingers into every muscle in his path.

Glenda reached down to capture his erection in her small, warm hand, which brought a groan of pleasure from him.

Paul reached down to grasp her bottom again. This time he lifted her. Glenda threw her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. Paul carried her to the empty bed and set her down on it. Glenda scooted to the middle, lay on her back, reaching out to grab his arms and pull him down.

Paul lowered himself down to her. He fastened his lips around a nipple and sucked hard on it. She wrapped her arms around his head and pressed him down on her breast. Paul slid his finger between her vaginal lips and touched the wet softness. Glenda responded by thrusting her hips upward to force his fingers deeper into her. She was hot and panting. Paul felt her heating hotter by the second. Involuntary groans of passion issued from her throat.

Glenda released Paul's head and used all her strength to pull him atop her. She spread her legs and grabbed the cheeks of his buttocks to guide him in. Paul complied. He thrust in deep, sliding through the moistened chamber. He withdrew and thrust again, reveling in Glenda's moans of pleasure.

"I've been without you too long," he sighed.

His utterance was Glenda's cue to take over the pace. She lifted her legs high in the air, spread to the limit and thrust them around Paul's torso. She pounded her hips up against his, sliding him through her body. Paul allowed the excitement of the act to overtake him. His pleasure mounted with Glenda's every thrust. Finally, he summoned his strength to raise up on his arms and withdrew himself from her.

"It's been a long time for me," he told her in all honesty. "At this pace I won't last very long."

"I don't care!" she cried. "Don't hold back—just come when you're ready."

He slid back inside her. Glenda thrust at him with even more abandon. She began a slow crescendo of pleasured gasps with each new thrust. Paul's attention turned from his own pleasure to observing Glenda's ascent. He surprised himself by holding off his climax longer than he had thought possible. Glenda kept up the pace. Paul responded by matching her. Glenda was climbing higher and higher.

At long last, Paul's orgasm came upon him. He thrust in as deeply as he could and poured himself into her. With each of his spasms he watched Glenda gasp for breath. He kept himself inside her after he finished. Glenda resumed her pace. After two or three more cycles she came, a strong climax that made her exhale all her breath as she remained tensed for long seconds.

As they descended from their heights, Paul withdrew from her and dismounted. The release of their energy into one another filled a cavity in their souls that had so long needed mending.

Paul laid on his back, Glenda aside him, her head on his shoulder. They said nothing for a while as they savored the special moment. They would make love again before drifting off to sleep, but nothing could match the intensity that they had just achieved.