Chapter 3

Across town a few hours later, Patty Robertson was climbing the stairs in Barbara's house.

After stopping off at home after school to say hi to her mom, she'd shouldered her backpack of school books and headed to Bobby's house. Patty and Bobby would study together, play music together, and talk about their days.

Patty had walked in the back door without knocking, as she had for years. She was reflecting over the last year, as she climbed to the second floor.

Patty had been there for Bobby as he dealt with the loss of his dad. It had been tough for the first few months.

The championship game, after much discussion, was declared a permanent tie by the local league's board. Co-championships were awarded to both teams.

Bobby hadn't picked up a baseball since.

When sign-ups came around for Babe Ruth (the next baseball level up from Little League in the area) the next season, Barbara had gently tried to persuade Bobby to turn out. Several coaches eager to draft him for their teams called as well, along with former teammates.

He loved to play the game. But now, he couldn't see himself playing without his dad being there. It would only bring home the fact he was gone.

Patty watched over and consoled him during that time. She helped as best she could while Bobby and his mom worked to build a new relationship, as the two members of a single parent family. Barbara and Bobby had seen a grief counselor for a while, until the cost had been more than Barbara could afford to continue.

During all this, Patty had fallen more deeply in love with Bobby Taylor.

She thought she'd first begun to love him when she was in 1^st grade and he was in kindergarten. She would take his hand when crossing the street on the way to school, and he would look up at her and smile. Patty loved to see Bobby smile, loved the sound of his infectious laugh. She loved to watch the miraculous way he could take toys apart and put them back together.

Later, she loved how he grew to be so much bigger than other boys his age, as if to be just the right size for her. She loved to share her drawings with him, and to sing with him. Nowadays, she also loved looking at his broadening chest, his deepening dimples, and his striking blue eyes.

She now loved him with the eyes of a blossoming young woman. Her own body was maturing as well, beginning to lose the angular looks of a young teenager. Her shoulders were broadening, her hips were flaring although less so, and her rear was a firm bubble over slim but muscular thighs.

For his part, Bobby felt he could tell Patty anything. He thought her music was beautiful, and the way her drawings could capture people's thoughts and emotions bordered on magic. He was naturally behind Patty emotionally, as boys his age would be. Although he wasn't yet capable of the depth of feeling that Patty was, he knew he'd be lost without her.

When his father died, Bobby had withdrawn somewhat from Patty. He seemed to fear deeper emotional attachments that would expose him to more hurt. Even when they were together, there was a distance.

When she listened to him play his guitar his choices were all blues songs for a while. Once she'd thought her heart would break when she listened to him playing an Allman Brother's rendition of a blues piece, Stormy Monday.

They call it Stormy Monday
But Tuesday's just as bad.
Lord, and Wednesday's worse
And Thursday's all so bad...

Lord have mercy,
Lord have mercy on me.
Though I'm tryin' and tryin' to find my baby (daddy, sang Bobby),
Won't someone please send (him) home to me.

Then a month ago, after they'd spent a weekend together, her heart soared when Bobby surprised her with a tentative kiss on the lips. It seemed to have been more of an expression of friendship than a sexual overture, but Patty had been thrilled nevertheless. They'd shared another awkward kissing session since, but Bobby seemed determined to keep things moving slowly for some reason.

And then Barbara started talking about having to move. Patty despaired as Bobby had pulled back from her yet again.

As she approached the door to the upstairs recreation room in the big house, she was mulling all this over. She probably had another month, two at most before Bobby moved away from her. She decided that she'd been patient as long as she could. She didn't know if Bobby was ready, but she couldn't wait! She had to let him know how she felt.

She pushed open the door, expecting to find Bobby strumming his guitar, or with his nose in a book. The room was empty.

She turned to see if he was in his bedroom instead. The door was closed, which was a little unusual. She still didn't think to knock, as they had walked freely through each other's houses for years.

When she pushed open the door, she pulled up in shock. Bobby was sprawled out on his bed, sound asleep. That wasn't so unusual, as he sometimes stayed up late doing homework or playing his guitar, and then crashed after school the next day. What was unusual was what he was wearing. Or what he wasn't wearing.

He was lying on his side, facing away from her, without a stitch on. She could hear his gentle rhythmic snoring. She stared, her eyes sweeping up his muscular thighs to his tight butt, and on up his broad back to his wavy black hair - a slightly softer shade than his mother's.

She involuntarily moaned out loud, and then self consciously clapped her hand over her mouth when she heard herself. She willed herself to calm down. So now what should she do?

She thought about going downstairs and making a loud noise, then slowly coming back upstairs to give him time to cover up. She thought about going home to her own bedroom to process the image of naked Bobby in private, her fingers in her panties, strumming the old banjo so to speak.

Chapter 4 »