Date: Thu, 10 Mar 2005 10:17:01 -0500
From: edcwriter@yahoo.com
Subject: THE PRIEST & THE PAUPER - 12

THE PRIEST & THE PAUPER - 12

Copyright 2005 by Carl Mason and Ed Collins

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the authors.  However based on real events and
places, "The Priest and the Pauper" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance
to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.  As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold
gradually.  If you would like to read other Mason-Collins stories, you
might turn to "Out of the Rubble" and "Castle Margarethen," both of which
are archived in Nifty's "Historical" section.  Comments on the story are
appreciated and may be addressed to the authors at edcwriter@yahoo.com

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands that anything other than safe sex is sheer insanity!


CHAPTER 12

(Revisiting Chapter 11)

After collecting his mail and tossing it on the dining room table, Bill
barely looked at the downstairs as he pushed one hunky redhead up the
stairs in front of them.  Pieces of clothing having dropped where they came
off their bodies, both men were nearly naked when they reached Bill's
bedroom and dove into his big bed.  The professor was ready to settle down
to some heavy groping and hard kissing, but Shane stopped him dead in his
tracks.  "Bill, I've got that 'itch' I've told you about.  I NEED you in
me...so bad!  PLEASE!"  "But, Shane, I've never done it..." his hero
whispered in acute embarrassment.  "DOESN'T MATTER!  I NEED YOU...  NOW!"
"Damn!" the academic muttered.  "I never could refuse you anything - even
those damned pizzas that got the hospital administrator down on my case!
What in hell do I do?"  As Shane scrambled to get the tube of lubricant out
of the night stand drawer, he grinned widely at a very dubious professor
and laughed, "Oh, it's not hard - well, yeah, it has to be hard - but
you're going to have so much fun that you won't walk for a week!"  "Oh..."
Dr. Bill murmured.

(Concluding Our Story - Realization)

>From his vantage point, Shane was able to look out on a solidly packed
St. Patrick's.  Indeed, there was standing room only at the back of the
great nave.  Many had come, of course, to meet Bishop Kelly who was
concelebrating a High Mass (Missa Contata) with Father Tom and the
Diocese's newest Deacon, one Shane McGuire!  Nineteen Sixty-Three...  Dear
God, ten years had passed since that wonderful summer retreat at the shore!
As he looked out over the congregation, however, he spotted members of the
Gang, so many others whom he had met at St. Patrick's, plus former students
and faculty from Sherburne High School.  They were all there - Brother John
(as burly as ever!), a proud though aging Sister Paul, Mel (an assistant
baseball coach and health teacher at Sherburne High School), Brandon (a
graduate of West Point, now a First Lieutenant home on leave from his
posting in Viet Nam as a military advisor), Tim (sitting with his
life-mate, Tiger, now completing his M.D. and heavily involved in the new
research on artificial hearts), Collin (sitting next to Mel, a May graduate
from UConn in linguistics [What else!]), Dr. Bill (whose eyes were
absolutely gleaming with pride and love), and Chuck (who sat next to Tim
and Tiger, quietly weeping).

Proudly, he adjusted the Deacon's stole across his left shoulder, across
his chest to the right waist, and made ready to join the procession.  At
the proper time, he sang the Epistle in a firm, young voice.  Just before
Communion, after the Bishop had incensed the altar and the gifts, he
incensed both the Bishop and Father Tom.  Then, he reverently faced the
assembly and incensed the entire congregation.  (There weren't many dry
eyes, including his own.)  The other moment that he would remember as long
as he lived from that glorious, kaleidoscopic day came when Bishop Kelly
elevated the Host.  As never before, he felt his soul ascend with the
prayers of the people and the clergy up to God Himself.  He knew -
definitively - how right the path was on which he had placed his feet.

After the service, the Bishop stopped by the sitting room of the rectory
where Shane was waiting for Fr. Tom.  "Shane," Bishop Kelly said, "I was so
happy to redeem the pledge I made to you some years ago - on the night of
the first "Carols and Lessons" program, if I remember correctly.  In you I
saw a priest and promised that if this were the path you chose, I would be
with you at the time of your first Mass.  I was here, just as I shall glory
in ordaining you as a priest in a year's time, if this be your continuing
desire."  "Above all, Bishop Kelly," Shane replied, "I'm grateful beyond
words for your counsel and support - and for being here today.  As for my
'continuing desires,' please believe that there's no question."  "Very
well, my son," the Bishop said with a twinkle in his eye.  "Nice work
today, by the way, Red.  Now I must run."

The new Deacon sat for a bit, thinking of the times he had found himself in
that selfsame room... in both celebration and in sorrow...and reminiscing
about events of the last decade.  He would leave soon for a party given by
his friends, but Fr. Tom was obviously going to be a while longer.

(Retrospect)

     (Seminary Retrospective - 1960-1964)

One more year and he, Shane McGuire, a poor kid from Quinassett,
Connecticut, would be a priest of the Church.  Man, how lucky he was to
have been collared in front of Mrs. Murphy's store by Fr. Tom.  How lucky
he was to have met friends and guides all along the way, including Bishop
Kelly himself who had supported his entrance into St. Matthew's Seminary in
Boston.  Not only was Bishop Kelly rumored to be a confidant of the
Cardinal Archbishop of Boston, but he had completed his own studies at
St. Matthew's!  What an honor, and what an exciting place it was.

If only so much of his energy hadn't been drained by the chaos that had
descended upon him earlier in the year, his third year of seminary studies.
His beloved Chuck - the blond haired pitcher who had taken him under his
wing on the PAL workout field, the young athlete with whom he had won not
only a PAL championship, but regional and state high school championships
as well, and his lover through high school and college - had suddenly
transferred to Boston College as a doctoral student in history.  He had
been as honest and straightforward with Shane as he had always been.  He
had, he pleaded, loved the redhead from the first day that he had met him
and offered to help him with his curve ball.  Shane was his life.  In terms
of personality, they were even better matched than Tim and Tiger who were
for all intents and purposes happily married; intellectually, they were -
and had always been - equals; physically, their compatibility
was...matchless.  Tears in his eyes, Chuck had laid his trembling hand on
top of Shane's and swore that no one had ever turned him on the way Shane
did.  There was no way in God's world that he could take any more of the
intermittent meetings that had marked his college and graduate school days.
He would not lose him to the Church without putting up a fight!  His jaw
set, his bright blue eyes glinting in the sun of an early September
afternoon on the Boston Common, he had turned to Shane and asked him if he
felt the same way about him.

No less honest than his friend, the redhead had replied that he not only
loved Chuck, but that he had long been "in love" with him.  As far as
personality, intellectual, and physical factors went, Chuck's analysis was
frighteningly close to his own - but there were problems.  For instance, he
was also "in love" with God - and the Church demanded a vow of celibacy
before he could be ordained as a Deacon later in the year.  Chuck begged
him for a chance to work out a middle way, a way in which they could
conscionably become life-mates and, yet, still fulfill inescapable
commitments.  For whatever reasons - and there were many, not the least of
which was love - Shane agreed to give Chuck that chance.

During the fall and early winter, the two young men were inseparable.
Chuck had an apartment near the College.  They studied together; they
talked endlessly about every subject under the sun; they loved each other
with an intensity that drained most of the pressure that they felt from
their studies and the questions they knew they would eventually have to
face.  Given their intellectual gifts, they actually managed to perform
well in their graduate studies, even though Shane received the first "A" he
had ever received on a paper with a complaint!  (His instructor complained
that he had always found the redhead's papers to be "models of incisiveness
that cut directly to the point with a literary grace that was
breathtaking."  The present paper was merely "excellent.") Further, the
youngster had begun courses that dealt with the Church's positions on
"celibacy" and "intimacy."  Conflicted from the beginning, his confusion
and frustration steadily mounted.

During the Holiday Season, he had remained in Boston, partially to get a
head start on his Spring Term reading and partially to be with Chuck.
Missing his friends in Sherburne, he was delighted to receive a call from
Sister Paul.  It seemed that the Mother House of her Order was in Boston.
She would be in town to visit a beloved former mentor who was dying and
wondered if a short visit would be possible.  Shane greeted her in one of
the Seminary's comfortable lounges and over tea they quickly caught up on
local happenings.  Finally, Sister Paul looked at him sharply and said what
had been on her mind for some minutes: "Shane, what's wrong?"  Trying to
maintain control, the youngster closed his eyes and shook his head back and
forth in frustration.  "That won't do, my dear boy; that simply won't do.
Spill it!"  "Sister!" Shane gasped, "I can't...it's too painful...it's a
'man thing'."  "Listen, my boy, I grew up with four brothers, I've dealt
with males all my life, and I love you as if you were my own.  Tell me
what's tearing you apart - and tell me now!"  "It will be confidential?"
the redhead asked weakly.  Hesitating for a moment, the imposing figure
finally shook her head and said, "Against my better judgment, I will
agree."  The whole story poured from Shane's lips.

After thinking for a few minutes, during which time which she drank the
better part of another cup of tea, the good Sister finally admitted that
she had personal reservations about the whole notion of clerical celibacy,
but rules were rules.  This was one that could be changed, but she saw
little chance that it would be in the foreseeable future.  "Were you to
follow another life course, my dear boy, I dare say you could make a
wonderful contribution to the Church.  You are very sexual, you know - and
I dare say it would be much easier for you."  (Shane looked out of the
corner of his eye at her as the shadow of a smile passed over her stern
features.)  "SISTER..." he hissed jokingly.  "Pshaw, Shane McGuire, don't
play games with me!  I invented them!  Now where were we?  Oh, yes, the
question for me is whether your love for Chuck is sufficient to justify
giving up the opportunity to bring hundreds, perhaps thousands of people
into contact with the love of God.  I don't question your love for the boy
- nor, I believe, his for you.  I do have eyes, you know.  During the next
days, I advise that you give up your present reading program and spend your
time in prayer and in the writings of the Church Fathers who have spoken on
these questions.  You might also speak with your professor, the one who is
teaching the 'celibacy' course.  He could save you time and energy.  And,
as you know, Sherburne isn't all that far into the wilderness.  (Spoken by
a true native of Southie, i.e., South Boston!)  If the phone won't do, come
home and talk with an old woman."  "Old woman?" Shane snorted to himself.
"Sharks don't have that many teeth!"  "I promise," he said obediently and
with love, whereupon she rose from her chair and made ready to leave.  He
bowed slightly before her as she blessed him and reached up to give him a
kiss on the cheek.

No answer came to him through prayer; no answer came to him through deep
reading in the Church Fathers.  The professor, whom he liked, did make some
specific reading suggestions, but, otherwise, simply mouthed the standard
answers of the Church.  He needed (so much) more.  Finally, in high
frustration, he called his dad.  "Hey, monster meat!" Bill had greeted him.
"What trouble have you gotten into this time - pouring Kool Aid into the
chalice...maybe stuffing pizza boxes behind the altar?"  "DAD!" Shane had
cried out, mimicking the voice of a highly insulted teenager.  "Seriously,"
he said, dropping into a lower register, "I've got big trouble and need to
talk with you.  Can I drive down to Sherburne for a couple of days?"  "I'd
enjoy four more than two," Dr. Bill had retorted, "but if it's only two
minutes, the answer is 'Yes'."

The young seminarian drove down to Sherburne in a snowstorm that was only
one step below a blizzard.  For an hour or so, they chatted over a stiff
whiskey before the fire in the library. After a fantastic meal, the two men
returned to the library.  "Dad," the redhead began, "I've got
problems...big problems.  What I'd like to do is lay the situation out for
you tonight and ask your help.  If you are willing, I'd like to turn in
early - what the trip didn't do to me, the whiskey and the food did - and
begin again in the morning.  Ok?"  "Yep," the professor exclaimed.
"Shoot!"

Shane again detailed the entire situation - his deep love for Chuck, their
demonstrated compatibility, his love of God and His Church, and the vow
that would have to be taken before he was ordained a Deacon in April.  "How
about it, dad, can you help me get the issues straight and make a
decision?"  "Big Red," his father had answered, "I honestly don't know if
I'm the right man for this job."  "Why, dad?" Shane murmured in deepening
despair.  "You've ten times more organized than I; you have a fantastic
analytic mind that turns Aquinas into child's play; and you're not against
religion."  The professor sipped his whiskey and grinned as he exclaimed,
"Flattery only works through one's twentieth birthday, young man, but, no,
seriously, there are some good reasons why I shouldn't touch this.  For
starters, I'm an Anglican.  Theologically and liturgically, we may be close
cousins, but there are outstanding differences.  For instance, other than
for small groups of monastics, we allow our priests to marry - and we find
good reasons for doing so.  The monastics could if they wanted to.
Secondly, I love far more than your mind and spirit; I love your hunky body
to the point where I'm not sure that I WANT to give you any good reasons
for clerical celibacy!  Thirdly, I find that we are animals - advanced
animals, but animals for all of that.  Physical love - heterosexual or
homosexual - is necessary for far more than procreation.  It's necessary
for our psychological health!  Next, you asked me to help you make a
life-turning decision.  I fear there are severe differences between the
Roman and the Anglican views of authority.  Beyond a relatively small
number of "basics," we feel that imposing control over people is not a good
way to gain their cooperation.  Work WITH them...as messy as that may be at
times.  This is not the byword of Roman governance.  You genuflect, you
kiss the ring, and you obey without question.  Your respect for my advice
makes me fear turning you in a direction that you might not otherwise take.
That would violate your freedom of will - and my deep love for you.  Does
that give you some idea why I hesitate to accept your request?"

The young seminarian sat, his eyes downcast, his lips quivering.  "Dad, you
said that you would always be here for me when I really needed you.  I'm
here...and I desperately need your advice and comfort.  Please take a
chance on the possibility that I'm mature enough to make my own decisions
once I am less confused and have gotten the best opinion I can."  "I KNEW
that between that damned university and that seminary," Bill snorted, "that
you'd come back here absolutely impossible to argue with!  Yes...of course,
I'll do what I can.  Are you absolutely exhausted, by the way, or would you
like a little of that 'comfort' you requested tonight?"  "Hell, dad, when
was anyone ever THAT tired," Shane chortled.  As they went up the stairs,
their arms around each other's waists, Dr. Bill was heard to repeat that he
was only offering a "little" comfort.  "Don't go looking for that damned
lubricant!" he commanded.  The redheaded one just laughed and kept on
climbing.

At breakfast that next morning and thereafter as he day progressed, Shane
remembered that Dr. Bill kept pitching questions at him.  He knew well that
the answers had to be his son's; his job was to help Shane focus on the
issues that needed examination.  It went on for hours: What do you lose if
you give up an intimate relationship with Chuck?  What do you lose if you
give up a priestly relationship with the Church?  What do you gain if you
marry Chuck...if you take the Church as your spouse?  It must have been mid
afternoon when he asked, "When you had that leg injury at the beginning of
your senior year at Notre Dame that forced you to give up baseball, did
anything good happen?"  "Well sure, dad," the redhead has answered.  "You
remember those new people I met and those new groups with which I was able
to work.  Hell, I LOVED working with the early teens over at the Home.  I'd
never had the time before.  Sports at a major university demand most of
your non-study hours!  I even got more deeply into some of my courses than
I had in high school or college.  It was exciting!"  "Do you see any
similarities between sports and 'lovers'," Bill asked, "or between sports
and a complete commitment of body, mind, and soul to the Church?
Immediately, he changed direction.  Well, one more question for you, and
then we must stop.  All things considered, son, which do you want more...at
a purely gut level: Chuck or being a priest?"  Without saying a word, the
young man came over to his father, knelt, placed his arms around his lower
legs, and whispered his love and appreciation for his dad's giving him
exactly what he had needed.  The professor was too exhausted to cook, but
they had a fantastic dinner at a new restaurant out on the pike.

Shane stayed close to home that evening and then spent much of the next day
saying hello to Fr. Tom, Brother John, and Sister Paul.  He even spent some
time playing a little basketball with the eighth graders at the handsome
school's new gym and making friends with the new kids who lived in the
Youth Center.  Then, with a clearer mind and heart, he returned to Boston.

          (College Retrospective - 1956-1960)

Lounging in Dr. Bill's sitting room, Shane remembered having poured over
college catalogs until he was almost blind!  All his dad would do was ask
questions and, occasionally, bring another catalog over from the library at
UConn.  He finally applied to four schools - Brown (an Ivy League School in
Providence), Holy Cross, Notre Dame, and Stanford - each of which accepted
and vigorously recruited him.  (In one form or another, full scholarships,
"fees and expenses" money, and transportation allotments were offered by
all four.)  No one ever knew that his final choice, the University of Notre
Dame, was made by flipping coins!

After going to high school in a small town that lay within an area only
slowly coming out of a deep depression, Shane could scarcely believe the
rich resources available at Notre Dame - activities, courses, facilities,
and all the rest.  Above all, he loved the sense of family and school
spirit that was part of the Fighting Irish legend.  Yes, the campus was
beautiful and held deep meaning for an Irish Roman Catholic, but there was
so much more.  Academically, though course selection was somewhat limited
in his freshman year, he followed Bishop Kelly's advice to secure a solid
liberal arts education heavy in philosophy, theology and religious studies,
Latin, modern languages and literature, and the social sciences.  Needless
to say, he went out for baseball and turned into an outstanding pitcher for
Notre Dame, a pitcher who led the way into the NCAA semi-finals in his
junior year.  (A leg injury in September of his senior year ended his
baseball career, but the letterman was always found on the sidelines,
cheering on his team.)

Coming home to Sherburne for Christmas of 1958, he still remembered sharing
the news that he had decided to go into the priesthood.  In truth, he had
only feared the sharing with Dr. Bill.  Fr. Tom loved him, but could not
enter into a physical relationship; the relationship with Chuck was still
developing and did not result in questions about a life-long relationship
until his seminary days.  The relationship with his father, however, was of
a different order.  Not only was there the deepest love, but there was also
a sexual relationship of great importance to both men.  He needn't have
worried.  Dr. Bill had no intention of trying to control the redhead's
life.  Indeed, he had learned long ago that the only way in which you kept
a person close was by supporting him in following his heart, mind, and
conscience.  Shane never knew of the tears that flowed from the professor's
eyes...and heart...when he returned to South Bend in early January.

          (High School Retrospective - 1953-1956)

So long ago...but Shane still remembered his first time with Chuck as if it
had been yesterday.  The redhead had been a sophomore; Chuck, a junior.
What had been an immediate connection on the PAL workout field had turned
into far more during Shane's first year at Sherburne High.  He remembered
the warm days of Indian Summer when Chuck had invited him to enjoy the
family cabin up in the hills for fishing, hiking, and just getting away
from the books for a weekend.  They had come across a secluded stream that
wended its way through the large property.  Hot and dusty from a long hike,
they had stripped without thinking and dived in.  Lying side-by-side,
naked, on the warm grass afterwards, Chuck had propped himself up on one
elbow and spoken with the young hunk who was his guest.  "Shane," he almost
whispered, "of all the guys, I've ever known, I like and respect you the
most.  You're the greatest!  What would you do if I did something that
really offended you...even pissed you off?"  "Come on, Chuck," the redhead
objected, you're my best friend, too.  I can't see you doing something like
that?"  "No, no, I'm serious," Chuck persisted.  "How would you handle that
kind of situation?"  Shane remembered thinking for a moment before
responding, "You can't get through life, Chuck, without having that sort of
thing happen - and I sure wouldn't want to lose you as a friend.  I'm not a
'hating' kind of guy.  I guess I'd forgive you...if you wanted to be
forgiven and work it out."  With that, Chuck had leaned down and kissed the
redhead passionately.  Instantly going hard, Shane had surprised the hell
out of the beautiful blond at his side by lifting up and returning the kiss
with the same passion with which it had been given.  Embracing, rolling
over and over on the grass, kissing and groping, Chuck had finally inhaled
the redhead's heavy cock.  One of the most meaningful relationships in
Shane's life just developed from there.  What a two years they had at
Sherburne and during Chuck's first year at UConn!  "Oh, yeah," Shane
breathed as he sat, waiting for Fr. Tom.  "Down, boy, down.  This just
isn't the time!"  He suddenly shuddered in pain as he remembered Chuck's
weeping before the Mass.

As he caught his breath, a second picture flooded his mind.  It was
graduation day at Sherburne High.  The stadium was filled with the
graduating class, the faculty, and proud families and friends.  Chuck had
come down from UConn and sat with Dr. Bill and the large St.  Pat's crew.
As Valedictorian, Shane stepped to the podium, gulped, and began to speak.
He could still remember his first paragraph that he had memorized until it
would never leave him.
     "I came to Sherburne as a homeless kid...a pauper. I begged, stole
and, when I absolutely had to in order to stay alive, I sold my body.  I
then met life-long friends, two saints who believed in me, as well as
teachers here at Sherburne High who pushed me as I'd never been pushed
before.  I leave as one of the richest graduates in this stadium... rich in
mind, rich in spirit...rich in all the things that really matter.  (Pause.)
I shall never cease being grateful to each of you...for my life."

(Redemption)

Suddenly, Shane was aware of Fr. Tom coming down the stairs.  His
reminiscing interrupted, he grunted, "Didn't hear you come in."  Father
laughed and replied, "You were off somewhere in the blue, and I didn't want
to bother you before I had changed uniforms."  "Fat chance of your ever
'bothering' me, Father!"

For a few moments, they spoke with love in their voices and in their
hearts.  There were congratulations, yes, but there were also promises of
the love and support that would continue as long as the two men
lived...wherever their life journeys took them.  "Have you any doubts?"
Father asked abruptly.  "Oh," Shane replied, "I guess I have a few regrets,
but not a doubt in the world.  I know that my feet are on the right path."
Fr. Tom simply nodded and promised that Dr. Bill and he would stop by the
celebration later that afternoon together.  Rising from the chair, he
motioned for Shane to come closer.  "I have here," he said quietly, "a gold
St.  Joseph's medal that my grandfather gave me years ago.  I am giving it
to my son as I promised him I would.  Let it always remind you of this day
- and of the last line of the Epistle for the feast of St. Joseph: 'Obtain
for us, Joseph, grace to lead an innocent life; and may it ever be secure
under your patronage.  Alleluia.'" With that he placed the medal around
Shane's neck and held him close as the young Deacon wept in his arms.

"Now," he continued, standing upright and clearing his throat, "I see your
handsome #2 coming up the walk to take you to the party.  It's time to go.
Enjoy...everything!"


                             THE END


+ In the beloved memory of marguerite r., whose legacy lent so much
historical information to this story. +