He needed to do something that would grab her attention. Something guaranteed to let her know she was on his mind…
As the germ of an idea took root, he called the information operator for Montana. By the time he’d reached the airport for his flight home, he was smiling in anticipation of her reaction.
By the time seventh period started, Sydney was in so much pain, she didn’t know how she was going to make it through class.
She’d waited all night for a phone call from Jarod, hoping he’d break down because he couldn’t stand to be apart from her and needed to hear her voice. Convinced he would phone her first thing this morning, she’d gotten ready for school early so she’d have time for a lengthy talk before first period.
But there’d been no phone call. She’d checked her messages between second and third period. Nothing.
That should have warned her not to bother him. When he’d answered his cell, he’d sounded far away and preoccupied, so totally unlike the man who’d given up the priesthood for her. His abruptness had left her devastated.
At this point she realized she couldn’t lie to herself any longer. What was the expression? Whatever seemed too good to be true probably was?
Two weeks ago Jarod had appeared at her apartment without his collar like som
e magnificent apparition from a fantastic dream.
It was fantastic all right.
Things like that didn’t happen in real life!
When he’d refused to move in with her, she should have seen through his clever smoke screen. What a twist of irony that when he’d arrived out of the blue, she’d thought he’d come to dally with her during his vacation from the parish.
Instead, he’d refused to touch her in order to make her believe he’d left the parish for good. She believed his story about his wanting to honor her by making her his wife before they went to bed together. Part of her had always doubted he would leave the priesthood forever and it seemed he had given up on her already.
No farce or tragedy Shakespeare had written could compare to the scenario Jarod had created. It was masterfully scripted and acted exactly like the play her class was working on right now.
“I’m still waiting for an answer, class. Let me repeat the question. Can any of you identify a folk tale woven into The Merchant of Venice?”
Several hands went up. “Amy?”
“It seems like in a lot of fairy tales there are always three wishes, or three tries at something. I was thinking that maybe the suitor having to choose one of the three chests to win his mate was like that.”
“Excellent thinking, Amy. You’re exactly right.” She looked around. “There’s another folk tale, as well. Does anyone want to take a guess?”
Linda Smoot’s hand shot up. Another irony that one of the men responsible for trying to drive Jarod out of Gardiner was this girl’s father. It was the stuff that could have been lifted from the famous English bard’s backlist of material.
“Go ahead, Linda.”
“How about the way creditors make their victims pay. You see that all the time in stories about the Mafia.”
Sydney nodded. “You’ve been doing your homework. Who can identify the greedy creditor? How about you, Randy?”
“Shylock.”
“Correct.” She looked around. “Steve? What undercurrent is stirred up when pitting a greedy Shylock against a noble Antonio?”
“They come from different faiths.”
“That’s right. Jew against Christian.” Priest against sinner. “This next question is for anyone in the class. Does this theme have any relevance that you can see in today’s world? If so, be prepared to cite a specific example.”
Everyone in the class raised their hand. She was about to call on Mike Lawson when a garishly clad man holding a rectangular florist box under his arm entered the classroom from the back. His presence created a major stir.
It had to be some girl’s birthday. Sydney had seen this kind of thing done before. At least the clown had chosen to come at the end of the period. There’d be no more discussion of the plot twist today.
The intruder looked around, playing the crowd. Everyone in the room had grown excited. “I’ve got a present here for someone. I’ll give you a clue. The initials are S.A.T.”
The kids laughed. Naturally. It was the name of the dreaded test they all had to take.