Ash Wednesday by Chet Williamson, Neil Jackson
Authors: Chet Williamson, Neil Jackson
Tags: Horror
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"but if the job opens up when I'm pregnant, or in the first year, there's no way I'll get it.”
“Why not talk to Mary?" Jim said.
"I couldn't do that."
"Why not? You're friends. Just tell her how you feel. You both know damn well you're the best teacher they've got out there. See what the chances are. Maybe they don't need an assistant for a few years."
Beth talked to Mary, and found her surprisingly open. Mary told her that it could be two, perhaps as many as three, years before the school population warranted an administrative expansion at Hatch, and Beth would certainly be considered. "The board makes the final choice, Beth," Mary said with a smile, "but I'd bet they'd go by my recommendation. And I certainly think you could handle it."
"Even if I took a leave of absence for a couple of years?”
“Why?" Mary took off her bifocals and looked at Beth from sharp, unglassed eyes.
Beth told her then about their plan to have a baby, and Mary grinned, putting her glasses back on like a happy-face mask.
"Are you pregnant now?" she asked.
"Not yet."
"Well, don't worry about a thing. I'll see you get maternity leave for as long as you want. As for leaving, it would be convenient if you could finish a year rather than leave in the middle of one."
"With a little lucky timing," Beth said, and both women laughed.
"Oh, it's time. How old are you, Beth?"
"Twenty-six."
“Well, you wouldn't want to wait much longer. Is Jim excited?"
Beth nodded. "I think he wants one more than I do."
" Reg was the same way. But when the twins came he changed his mind." Mary put a hand on Beth's shoulder. "You go ahead and do it," she said. "There'll be a job for you when you're ready, even if I have to make one." And then her sixtyish, blue-haired principal said something that amazed Beth. "And if you want to get pregnant fast, put him on the bottom and when it happens, just sit on it. Don't move a muscle." She grinned crookedly. "If you can help it." They both giggled like schoolgirls.
When she got home, Beth told Jim what Mary had said. They laughed about it, then they tried it.
Beth was pregnant by February. She requested maternity leave for the 1973-74 school year, and was granted it. By June she was starting to show, and the mounding of her stomach brought out all the protective instincts that Jim had never realized he'd had. He also got a job moonlighting for the Merridale Messenger .
Jim had known Bill Gingrich since Jim was in high school. When his eighth-grade English class had gone on a tour of the Messenger offices and press room, Gingrich had acted as guide. Jim had been fascinated by the workings of the small weekly, and talked to Gingrich for such a long time that he nearly missed the bus back to school. His interest in journalism grew, and in his freshman year he became a junior reporter for the Merridale High Sentinel , which was printed at the Messenger 's offices. Jim would consistently volunteer for the little-loved job of going to the offices Wednesdays after school to pick up the papers for Thursday distribution.
He'd always used the time to talk to Gingrich, who spoke gruffly but was secretly pleased to have an audience to whom he could tell his stories of working on the Lansford Courier in the forties.
So when Jim entered the Messenger offices twenty years later and told Gingrich his name, Gingrich, a little balder and a lot fatter, grinned. "Jimmy—the kid who used to make me tell all my war stories!"
Jim laughed. "Was I that big a pest?"
"Nah. Hell, I liked it. So what can I do for you?"
Jim told him that he was looking for a part-time job, explaining the situation with Beth and the expected baby. "I suppose I could stock shelves or something," he said, "but I'd rather do something that I know about and like. Frankly, Mr. Gingrich, I don't know where else you could get my experience for the money I'm willing to take."
"What kind of stuff do you want to do?" Gingrich wasn't smiling anymore.
"What do
“Why not talk to Mary?" Jim said.
"I couldn't do that."
"Why not? You're friends. Just tell her how you feel. You both know damn well you're the best teacher they've got out there. See what the chances are. Maybe they don't need an assistant for a few years."
Beth talked to Mary, and found her surprisingly open. Mary told her that it could be two, perhaps as many as three, years before the school population warranted an administrative expansion at Hatch, and Beth would certainly be considered. "The board makes the final choice, Beth," Mary said with a smile, "but I'd bet they'd go by my recommendation. And I certainly think you could handle it."
"Even if I took a leave of absence for a couple of years?”
“Why?" Mary took off her bifocals and looked at Beth from sharp, unglassed eyes.
Beth told her then about their plan to have a baby, and Mary grinned, putting her glasses back on like a happy-face mask.
"Are you pregnant now?" she asked.
"Not yet."
"Well, don't worry about a thing. I'll see you get maternity leave for as long as you want. As for leaving, it would be convenient if you could finish a year rather than leave in the middle of one."
"With a little lucky timing," Beth said, and both women laughed.
"Oh, it's time. How old are you, Beth?"
"Twenty-six."
“Well, you wouldn't want to wait much longer. Is Jim excited?"
Beth nodded. "I think he wants one more than I do."
" Reg was the same way. But when the twins came he changed his mind." Mary put a hand on Beth's shoulder. "You go ahead and do it," she said. "There'll be a job for you when you're ready, even if I have to make one." And then her sixtyish, blue-haired principal said something that amazed Beth. "And if you want to get pregnant fast, put him on the bottom and when it happens, just sit on it. Don't move a muscle." She grinned crookedly. "If you can help it." They both giggled like schoolgirls.
When she got home, Beth told Jim what Mary had said. They laughed about it, then they tried it.
Beth was pregnant by February. She requested maternity leave for the 1973-74 school year, and was granted it. By June she was starting to show, and the mounding of her stomach brought out all the protective instincts that Jim had never realized he'd had. He also got a job moonlighting for the Merridale Messenger .
Jim had known Bill Gingrich since Jim was in high school. When his eighth-grade English class had gone on a tour of the Messenger offices and press room, Gingrich had acted as guide. Jim had been fascinated by the workings of the small weekly, and talked to Gingrich for such a long time that he nearly missed the bus back to school. His interest in journalism grew, and in his freshman year he became a junior reporter for the Merridale High Sentinel , which was printed at the Messenger 's offices. Jim would consistently volunteer for the little-loved job of going to the offices Wednesdays after school to pick up the papers for Thursday distribution.
He'd always used the time to talk to Gingrich, who spoke gruffly but was secretly pleased to have an audience to whom he could tell his stories of working on the Lansford Courier in the forties.
So when Jim entered the Messenger offices twenty years later and told Gingrich his name, Gingrich, a little balder and a lot fatter, grinned. "Jimmy—the kid who used to make me tell all my war stories!"
Jim laughed. "Was I that big a pest?"
"Nah. Hell, I liked it. So what can I do for you?"
Jim told him that he was looking for a part-time job, explaining the situation with Beth and the expected baby. "I suppose I could stock shelves or something," he said, "but I'd rather do something that I know about and like. Frankly, Mr. Gingrich, I don't know where else you could get my experience for the money I'm willing to take."
"What kind of stuff do you want to do?" Gingrich wasn't smiling anymore.
"What do
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