2 comments/ 16906 views/ 5 favorites Fate and Destiny Pt. 01 By: Romantic1 This novella is in ten chapters with a short epilogue; it has been split into two submissions to Literotica. Specific dialogue and scenes in this work are fiction; however, the general plot happened almost as written here. Names, locations, and characters have been fictionalized to protect what remains of the reputations of those that survive. Many have forgotten these events, but I remember, although I was only a minor character I was close enough to see first-hand how the affair unfolded and how it ended. There are lessons in this story for everyone." Fate and Destiny Pt. 01 Dean pulled me aside for a private dinner three days after the listing. "You may find the advice I'm about to give you somewhat contradictory, but I think you should slowly sell off some of your shares in the company – and I emphasize the words 'some' and 'slowly.'" He grinned at me. "What?" I blurted out with a happy laugh. "I just made millions on what you've been paying me in worthless stock." I tossed a jovial punch at his shoulder as he sat next to me sipping his martini. Dean laughed and feigned great pain at the contact: "Yes, but things have a way of going up and down. Study the stock market, and notice that diversity is the name of the game. You shouldn't be all in one company, even Triax. Diversify. If you stay in this industry I recommend Microsoft and Oracle. If you want hardware I'd try IBM or even Apple Computer if you want a long shot. In any case, get yourself a good financial advisor; your choice – no strings, and Triax will even pay for it as one of the perks of being a director. We'll talk more. Go slow with this. No big trades. I plan to do the same thing and I'm telling the rest of the management committee the same thing. This isn't about being disloyal to Triax; it's about being loyal to yourself and your family, and your long-term financial security. This is me giving you friendly advice." So over the next year I got an education from an investment advisor and a newly hired accountant. My business savvy ratcheted up, and I did slowly diversify my holdings into promising long-term stocks. With as much money as I'd made from the initial public offering I encountered a whole new range of problems – and benefits. I solved any future potential problems with the church's trustees by contributing $250,000 to the building fund. At the time, the amount was more money in total than they had paid me since I'd started to work for the Dillon Church, so to a person they thought they were getting a great deal. The money also salved my guilty conscience since I was putting in longer and longer hours on my corporate work, and less and less on the church work. So far, the subtle shift had gone unnoticed – or at least unmentioned. Despite our family's efforts to keep our financial windfall quiet, word rapidly spread about the killing the Craig family had made on Triax stock. Money brings not only security, but also fame – or infamy. I was besieged with requests for money from almost every quadrant of my life. Everyone had a hand out. To fend them off, I hired my own secretary. Pearl Winters became the third most important adult in my life behind Margaret and Dean, and in short order became a trusted member of the Craig family. She did it all: scheduling, appointments, travel arrangements, bookkeeping, tax records, and even my personal finances and appointments for Margaret and the children. Pearl also acted as the filter for who got to talk or see me. She could be scary at times when she told begging parishioners that they were in no way to ask for money from me. A few got through her screening, but only the most determined. The overnight success story about the Dillon preacher resulted in a meeting with Paul Carey, the program director for the local NBC affiliate in Boston. Ministers getting financial windfalls made great news apparently. Paul wanted to get me on television in some way, less as a minister and more as a talk show host that would cover delicate topics facing society. He wanted an upbeat, optimistic, and bouncy show that would attract viewers and potential get syndicated across the network. He also wanted a daily show, and I could clearly see the commitment would be a full-time job that wouldn't allow for any of my three other professions. After I turned him down and he made some counter proposals, Paul and I agreed to air a once a week talk on Sunday evening that I taped earlier – sometimes doing two or three weeks worth of tapings in one afternoon or evening session. To me it was a substitute for those parishioners that couldn't get to the morning services as well as an opportunity for me to meet some other interesting people. For NBC, they got a dynamic ministerial speaker with a business 'tilt' that drew an audience to a rather ignorable time slot. To do the television shows, I'd pull out the notes from some of my sermons, dust them off and add some new material, and then show up on the set. Paul Carey matched me up with a hot red head named Marsha Day. Although she dressed conservatively, she always raised some earthy thoughts in my head and no doubt in the heads of the male part of the audience. Marsha would interview me, actually posing questions I would feed her ahead of time, and then I would expand on the subject based on my notes. Often we'd bring in a third person, someone that had done something uplifting in the world and we'd both interview that person. We gave the show a spiritual tilt, carefully staying away from anything deeply religious. The TV show was a success both for NBC and for me. The network picked up the feed and started to broadcast it selectively across New England and later the Middle Atlantic states. We added some provision for viewers to send in money to the Dillon Free Church, and the coffers of the church started to expand from this new source of revenue. My counseling work increasingly focused in two areas: anxieties and family counseling, the latter more often than not dealing with marital counseling. Of course, there was some overlap. With the consent of some of my patients I started to collect deeper background information on them as well as probe deeper into their lives. Patterns started to emerge, and about five years after I'd started collecting the stories and data, I published two books. A patient-oriented book called 'Love Postponed' achieved some fame and sold rather well on the trade book market. My companion book was called 'Strategies for Marital Counseling' and was aimed primarily at clergy and counselors advising couples in troubled marriages as well as the textbook market. 'Strategies' went through five printings the first year, and a decade later had seen six editions. 'Love Postponed' went through almost twenty printings making the book a near best seller in its field of self-help books. The research cemented my name in the community as the 'go to' counselor in these areas. One day while I was working at Triax Systems on some human resource issues, Dean came into my office. "Jon, we've got an ethical dilemma on our hands and you're the guy to solve it." I know I must have looked surprised. I couldn't imagine what he was talking about. I thought of Triax as the most ethical company in the world. It was why I was there. Dean went on, "As you've heard, we have a major subsidiary in South Africa. It employs over a thousand people – a mix of whites and blacks. The problem is apartheid." I looked puzzled, wondering what I could possibly do to eliminate that problem – a government imposed separation of the races. Dean smiled and went on, "There's increasing pressure from our U.S. shareholders to shut down the operation – to put economic pressure on the National Party that runs the country to abolish apartheid. If we choose that option, we could easily move those operations to Europe or Japan, but I want to know what we should do. Just shutting things down doesn't feel like a good choice but I don't know why." "You want me to go over there and take a look?" I ventured. "Yes. Take Margaret – I value her opinion on this too. Heck, take Pearl too. She's black and not a bit shy in sharing her opinion. Get her to weigh in on this too." We both laughed; Pearl was almost a foot shorter than me and outweighed me by a hundred pounds. She also had more energy than any three people we knew. "When do you want me there?" "How about in two weeks for a few days. By then I'll have an added inducement for you to go." Dean gave me a broad grin. "What might that be?" I asked. "The company will own a Grumman Gulfstream III corporate jet by them. I assume you're still interested in flying." He knew this was an understatement of immeasurable proportions; he gestured to the photos of various aircraft that peppered the paneled walls of my office, a couple autographed by NASA astronauts. "Anyway, we'll have a flight crew, but with your credentials you'll be able to fly right seat for part of the trip. Go and enjoy the trip, and come back with some solid recommendations for me and the Board." Margaret, Pearl, and I all had passports that had never been used before that trip to South Africa. By the time we got there in the new airplane, we'd been processed through eight different countries, and I'd racked up several dozen hours of jet time. A year later, I traded a pay bonus to have Triax send me to jet school so I was fully qualified as a pilot-in-command of the sleek twinjet. I learned a lot in South Africa even though we were only there a few days. Whites ran the subsidiary, but the real work was being done by a cadre of smart blacks that the company had educated over the past twenty years about computers, programming, systems, and business analysis. There was a major asset there as well as a good example of the races working together, even in the times of increasing unrest and subjugation. Moreover, the South African market for our software was growing, profitable, and accepting of the bi-racial nature of the company there. Margaret and Pearl met with some of the women that worked in the company, and unearthed some new problem areas: sexual harassment and discrimination, not to mention the racial bias in nearly every company activity. Much to my surprise, Margaret took a leadership role with the females and later when we reported back to Dean and the board. I didn't realize she'd developed into such a capable business person through her work at the church and in some local charities. This was my first view of her in a business assessment, and she distinguished herself. We left Johannesburg after a four-day visit, flying back up the spine of Africa to Europe, and then across the North Atlantic and back to Boston. I only flew a few of the legs of the return trip. I needed to think about what we'd seen and heard, and also talk about it with Margaret and Pearl. Dean strolled by my office the morning after my return: "How'd the trip go? What should we do?" He stopped and came to the doorway. I squinted my eyes at his impressive figure backlit by the morning sun outside the building. I responded, "We keep it, but there are some things that need fixing there." Dean came in a flopped down on the leather sofa in my executive office suite. He said, "Tell me more." I began, "You were right it is an ethical question – of huge proportions. We employ about a thousand people there, and ninety percent of them are black. Trickle down economics in that country indicates we're having a positive economic impact on something like twenty thousand people, mostly black – and I'm probably understating the impact. If we shut the operation down, we send an economic hit to that many people. They all just slip deeper into poverty." I went on, "Dean, the slums in Johannesburg are the most depressing thing I've ever seen. We have no equivalent in this country. They go on for miles. Abject poverty. Some of our people do live there, but if we close that operation we'll drive thousands into that state of life. It wouldn't be right. It would even be like a death sentence for some of them." Dean nodded authoritatively, and said, "What else?" "Well, I'll steal some of Margaret's thunder – she's coming in this afternoon to see you about this side of things. There's a sexual harassment problem there too. I'm going to recommend that we do some training there on the problem and be sure everyone knows we don't tolerate that kind of behavior. Some of it is pretty blatant according to Margaret and Pearl. Of course, there's also sexual and racial discrimination, and I don't know just yet what we can do about that problem. Fix one thing at a time I guess. I'm going to work on solutions and some things that'll soften what's going on." Dean said, "Remember Bud Reynolds from our class; he works with McKinsey. Call him and see what those guys can do to turn around that kind of behavior. I know they helped Chemical Bank on some sensitivity issues in this area." He paused and added, "In the meantime, be prepared to talk to the Board at next week's meeting about this. I'll give you a half hour on the agenda. Margaret too. You make me wonder what's going on with some of our other foreign subs too." The apartheid, harassment, and discrimination issues became my turf after that. I became a hero to some for the stance I took and that Triax adopted. It would be over a dozen years later before apartheid would fall. I talked about my positions on the three topics on the television show and during some of my sermons. Much to my surprise, I ended up being interviewed for the national news. The years went by in a blur. I was asked to be on the boards of several Fortune 500 companies. I took each job with pride, as well as with pleasure as my personal reputation ratcheted up. Dean jested that I'd become a 'power broker,' a term I actually enjoyed as a measure of my success. About six months after the African trip and the news broadcasts, Pearl came into my office just after lunch one day. "Dr. Craig, there's a telephone call I think you should take. It's from ... Kurt Waldheim – he's the outgoing secretary-general of the United Nations." I grabbed for the phone. A week later I'd made trips to UN headquarters and the State Department, and I'd accepted a position on the UN Commission on Discrimination with some of the most notable leaders of the world. Now I was involved in some major ethical issues on a global basis. The slogan of the day ran through my head: 'think global; act local.' My work in the three areas of my life continued with major successes in each of sectors of my career life: minister, counselor, and director. Somehow, with all that going on, I also fit in the work for the UN, qualifying as a pilot in the company jet, and being a family man into the allotted 168 hours a week. I openly talked about each area of my life in the others, not violating any confidences of course, but sharing what I learned from one sphere in the others. The UN work gave me new contacts and information to bring to my sermons and the television show; it also lent perspective on some of the issues my counseling clients were facing. Fate and Destiny Pt. 01 The dalliance led to an on and off again affair that Marsha and I maintained for five years, even after she married a high powered Boston lawyer from Dorne, Locke, Windsor & Furbish. One of the success factors for the affair was secrecy. While trust could have been an issue, it certainly wasn't around keeping our trysts concealed. She had her reputation in the media to consider, and I had my Dillon and corporate life to maintain; neither one of us wanted the stigma of infidelity ruining our lives. One might have thought the potential damage sufficient motivation to stifle our carnal desire for one another. It wasn't. I heard the term 'fuck buddy' around the office one day, and realized that this was what we were to each other. We were affectionate and loving friends that occasionally got together every few weeks for the thrill and risk of it, and fucked each other's brains out. After our satisfaction, we'd dress, depart the hotel or motel separately, and go back to leading perfectly normal and respectable lives for another week or month. There was no desire by either of us to marry or do anything other than what we did every few weeks. To keep our rendezvous covert from Pearl, my master coordinator, I'd schedule time at Triax, MOSC, or a meeting with some fictitious university professor at one end of the Charles River or the other. Marsha could likewise slip away to screen a potential interview candidate for her show. Neither one of us acted out of character. Over time the thrill went out of the affair and things became too routine. One day at a romantic lunch looking down the Charles River from the Cambridge Hyatt, we mutually decided to call it quits. No guilt. No remorse. We saw each other frequently in connection with Marsha's television news coverage. I was one of her favorite 'characters' to call on, always ready with a pithy quote or sound bite for whatever she was trying to put together. Our affection for each just took a different tack. Later, she'd be one of the few people to sympathize with what happened. A special time for the Craig family became the holidays. We had enlarged the parsonage at our own expense and members from both my and Margaret's family would come to Dillon at Christmas. Our children grew up with the excitement and awe of not only Christmas, but also all the cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and such that came and added their presence to the season. We also created a tradition to be at our newly acquired vacation home in Kennebunkport for Independence Day. Dean and his family were there too, just a short distance away in their own ocean front home. Along with a flock of relatives from both families we'd have the largest cookout and all-day party anyone had ever seen. I bought a forty-foot sloop, and we'd take various combinations of visitors out for tours of the area. Dean's older children organized games for the younger kids. At night we got the entire entourage on the sloop and sailed into the town harbor where we had front row seats for the fire works display. The time was pure wonderment for the children, and I found such joy watching their faces as the day unfolded. Marsha wasn't my only flirtation. Somehow, once I opened myself to the possibility, available women were just there: a waitress in London, a consultant to Triax I was with in Toronto, and even a New Age minister I took a class from in San Diego, to mention only several of the attractions I bowed to. I was discrete, as were my liaisons. Except for Marsha, they were infrequent and enjoyable one-night-stands. After one of my assignations, on a flight back from Rome, I studied my inner motivations that had made Maria, a young airline attendant, so attractive and desirable. Why was I so willing to jump into the bed of a gorgeous and passionate woman not even my oldest daughter's age. I felt if I could understand myself I might have some real insight into the deeper feelings men and women had when they strayed from their committed relationships. It was like me to try to take experiences from one part of my life, and apply them to another part. Had I lost the ability to extract wisdom from experiences; were they only past facts with no learnings for me? I didn't like the list I'd drawn up by the end of that flight. Lust, sexual craving – even addiction, and ego gratification are emotions that are hard to admit to. Power over someone, even for a brief time; did I not have power within my own family. What I did have to admit was that I was good at the snow job and the one-night stand. I was honing my skills, yet part of me wanted none of it. I analyzed what was really bothering me, and more than anything I discovered that I didn't feel any guilt. I actually felt guilty that I didn't feel guilt. I wanted to feel some remorse for each of my peccadilloes, but I knew deep inside that it wasn't a temporary lapse of loyalty or indiscretion on my part and had therefore dismissed the act as not worthy of further consideration. I knew I'd do the same thing all over again if the opportunity presented itself. Later after my Rome flight landed I went to the office and then home; no one noticed anything worth mentioning about my demeanor. I apparently passed muster with everyone, just as I had after my frequent flings with Marsha. What I knew inside and what was going on in my head were unseen to the outside world. I had my own world of secrets and lustful thoughts inside my head. I actually laughed deep inside when I found myself attracted to one of the young women in the congregation that came through the receiving line after the Sunday service ended. She told me my remarks about holding a forgiving attitude about Judas had particularly touched her, since she'd been harboring ill thoughts about a boyfriend from a recent breakup. In the few seconds as she spoke and looked into my eyes I had created an elaborate fantasy where we were taking turns ravaging each other in sexual delight. In the end I smiled and thanked her for her nice comments about my talk. Fate and Destiny Pt. 01 About this time several members of the church ministry committee asked me to do a sermon or two on sin. They felt the subject hadn't been addressed recently, and were pressing for a return to some of the basics. Thus, two Sundays later I talked about sin – its Biblical definition meaning to miss the mark. I talked about who set the mark, drawing a distinction between where God might set it and where an ego might set it – specifically someone that felt they knew better than God. Of course, at issue was whether the Bible was an authoritative source on the subject. I kicked this around a little in the sermon, knowing that part of the congregation thought the book the inspired and literal work of God, and others the writings of wise men with weaknesses and opinions just as we'd find in any group today. I left my audience with thoughts about their own definition of what constituted sin, raising the issue of faithlessness to their own inner truth and being. I expressed doubt about being immediately punished except by their own hand, yet raised the issue of karma that they carried from life to life – if they believed in reincarnation and rebirth. I thought the talk was one of my better speeches. Many in the congregation came up and praised my efforts to cover the broad subject in the thirty minutes I usually devoted to a sermon. I felt a little hypocritical talking about sin, when I knew that in some eyes I had violated various vows in my relationship, as well as conducted shadowy business practices. I'd even alluded to some of the latter points in my talk. On the flight out the following Tuesday afternoon I thought of where I set my own mark – marks to miss if I was to sin. What was the word that represented making the mark or not sinning? I pondered some unanswered questions from my talk on Sunday. Could you be powerful and be a success without sinning? If you made money did that automatically make you a sinner? Could you have a relationship outside your marriage without committing a sin? Or break the law? Or have evil thoughts? I continued to brood on the subject all the way to Houston where I had to check-in with one of the Menthen Oil subsidiaries and then hop a flight to Denver to see a new Triax acquisition. I liked the word 'brood;' it so aptly described my quiet times alone – I didn't pray or meditate or contemplate – I brooded over things. I worried about what they meant to me, to people I knew, to my congregation, and to my business associates. I knew from counseling and private conversations that my colleagues and contemporaries worried about themselves – their economic security, their family situation, their infidelities to self and to spouse, their physical health, along with aging parents, children, paying bills, image and reputation, and their jobs and careers. Did people brood over these the same way I did over the issues in my life? Some of these problems were in my worry space, and others weren't. What made these things to brood over was that there could be dramatic downsides to each issue: loss of job or fortune, loss of control, loss of love, and ill health and even death, to list a few. Brooding meant I considered all the downsides – from my shadow side – and then figured out how to keep them at bay in my own life, and how to help others mired down in that space. The underlying assumption was that I had a complete list of the issues and the downsides that might result. Later, I would find the notes from that trip and realize I hadn't even come close to creating a complete list. Fate and Destiny Pt. 01 Fate and Destiny Pt. 01 Laura told me she wanted me again, and moved to rejuvenate me. I found myself surprised at my responsiveness to her ministrations. The second time we made love, we were more tender and loving. The passion was still there, yet it was as though we wanted to have two separate memories to recall when we were apart – a rough, rushed passionate fuck and the gentle and romantic making love. Eventually, we sat naked on the floor of my office leaning against the sofa, my arms wrapped around her. We kissed often – hard and wild, soft and tenderly, and everything in between. I stroked her body, and she reciprocated touching me everywhere. I finally spoke, "Laura, I love you. I knew it the instant you walked into my life – that first day weeks ago." She kissed me and whispered to me, "Jon, you are the love of my life. I love you too." I wondered what we were to do with our newfound attraction and discovery of each other. I raised my thoughts with her: "Can we be together again? What are you feeling?" Laura said, "Oh God, yes, I want to be with you every moment of every day – like this or just together." She was then pensive for a moment. "For now, I think our lives should stay the same. We won't upset any apple carts, at least for now. We'll have to see how we feel about each other and this – us – over time. My mind has been fried by you – by my thoughts about you." She looked at me tentatively and asked, "Is that all right? I mean I ..." I interrupted her: "No, that's perfect for now. My brain is a jumble too with nothing but thoughts of love for you. It's not normal and I know things will quiet down. We're in what is known as the infatuation phase; it passes and hard to believe but we'll think more rationally about this – us – in a few weeks. Then we can see if we want to do anything differently. Right now I feel as though I'm in a fairy tale with you." "I'm madly in love with you," She whispered as she turned to me for a kiss, the nipples of her stimulated breasts again rubbing lightly across my chest as she squirmed for greater body contact with me. I felt arousal again, but knew it would futile to try to start a third round of lovemaking at my age. I glanced at the clock. We'd only been together an hour. So much had happened in that time. My life had changed. My love had changed. I knew I'd spend days sorting out what happened between us, and thinking of things I wished I'd said or done – ways I would think to show or tell her I loved her and wanted her with me. I was surprised at what an incurable romantic I had suddenly become. Laura said, "I don't want to leave. I just want to stay like this all night." "You might be missed," I suggested. "Poor Gary. He's all wrapped up in the paper. His intentions towards me and our marriage are good, but his first love always has been and always will be the paper." We kissed some more and I stroked her pubic hair. I liked the bristly feel against my fingertips. Laura seemed to like it too. About seven o'clock Laura said, "I guess I should probably go." "I have a couple of thousand questions for you," I said as I stood. I extended a hand to help her up, and then pulled her naked body against mine one more time. We kissed as we fondled each other's genitals more in teasing gestures than with the expectation of anything further happening between us. "Dinner?" I asked. "I suppose." I suggested, "Can we take something to Gary? Pizza or something?" She cocked her head to one side and said, "I'll see." She walked across my office in her nakedness, a picture of beauty I'll never forget, and found her purse and cell phone. I listened to her place the call and have a brief conversation with her husband. The result was that Gary told her he already had a cold pizza sitting on his desk as he worked on his editorial. We dressed, but not without a further pressing together of nude bodies and kisses. I noticed my office had the musky smell of sex to it. I hadn't experienced that for years, not really since Marsha and I had last shacked up at some motel around the Boston loop. This was different in so many ways; there was love here. Marsha was a fuck buddy, but Laura was my love. I left a window open, noting as I did that the doors to the office had been completely unlocked the entire time we'd been together; anyone could have wandered in and discovered us. I resolved to have my brain more in gear when we did this again. We did dinner at a local tavern that was also known for its good food. I noticed a few parishioners there, so we kept things quite formal and business looking. We did share a few clandestine kisses in the parking lot before we both headed home. To be continued Fate and Destiny Pt. 02 This episode is Part 2 of 2. In Part 1, an elaborate foundation has been laid for the events in these chapters. Please read that part (published yesterday) before proceeding. Enjoy. Fate and Destiny Pt. 02 The bluntness of her question hit me between the eyes. It was the last question I would have expected from her. My silence to her was my answer to the challenge. There was no doubt to her what my inability to answer meant. I couldn't lie to her at this point. "Dr. Craig, I can't work for you any more." A further slap from her was the use of my surname and the term doctor; she'd always called me 'Jon' – something I'd encouraged keeping the office atmosphere light and informal. June walked forward and handed me the new copy of the Chashin River Weekly. She whispered, "Goodbye Jon." I knew in that instant I'd never see her again. The paper was folded to reveal a full-page, large-type, editorial by Gary Wayne. I read the whole text as I listened June gather her things and leave. She was crying. Fate and Destiny Pt. 02 Dean took me to Maine. I took refuge by the ocean at our cottage. I walked the beach for hours each day regardless of the weather: thinking, meditating, praying, and finding a new God. I cried often. I read voraciously, seeking guidance and answers to my prayers. I'd seen other people change themselves in times of crisis. I talked to some of them about how they did it. They served as my role models and a few as my mentors. I raged at myself – the anger palpable as I screamed my fury at the ocean. I talked to the gulls and the sandpipers. Try as I might, I couldn't always be constructive, particularly when I looked at the twisted path of destruction I'd left behind me in Dillon – in my life and in the lives of those around me. I took ownership and responsibility for my actions in the debacle. I couldn't be any type of victim in all of this. Gradually, I detached from the old, ego-based life style and from the grief Laura and I had caused each other. Detaching from possessions and life style turned out to be easier than I thought. It was hardest to detach from the intangible, like love of my family, my reputation, and the addictive behavior success bred – all the things my ego thrived on. Dean stepped in and negotiated a truce between Margaret and me. She gave me a year to reform – again Dean's word: reform. He knew the hubris, the ego, and the invincibility I'd developed over the decades. He saw I'd lost my God. He mentored me past these debacles. At the end of the year, I visited Margaret for the first time, hat in hand, apology at the ready. What made the difference to her was that I was a changed man at the end of that first year. I was the man she'd met in college: beat up, much older, a little wiser, and repentant. I'd become serene and more introspective. I didn't need the validation from outsiders the way I had before the Rubicon. Margaret had changed too, or at least I woke up to many of the changes she'd gone through over the years before the crisis. She was stronger and more an equal than I'd seen her before. She'd done much better than me at weathering the cataclysm in our lives. She'd closed up the parsonage and turned it over to the Church, found a new home in another town, and fielded thousands of questions and expressions of sympathy from friends and parishioners. She'd also held the family together, and later bridged my return with the children – having them accept me back into their lives. Margaret and I picked up the shattered pieces of our marriage and started to mend things. It was strained for a while. We set new boundaries. I was too subservient for a while, until she told me to get some spine and get on with life. We built a new marriage on the ashes of the old one. I built a new life on the ashes of my previous life too, at least that described some of the thoughts I had about what had happened. I created a lot of karma on this journey. Now I'm left with those tinges of sorrow and regret that plague all men – in my case caused by action rather than inaction. Fate had put a lot of things in my path – some good and some not so good. I had choices all along the road. Destiny is what I did with them – some good things and some not so good. I think I used a line something like that in my last sermon at the Dillon Church: 'Fate is what life deals you; destiny is what you do with it.'