The Making of a Gigolo (15) - Agatha Roberts

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18
19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36

Chapter Three

Matilda's labor had only been seven hours. Betty didn't know that yet. Matilda had promised to tell her sister all about it when she got home, but, obviously, there hadn't been time. As Bobby helped Betty into the back seat of the car, he noticed that the fluid leaking past Betty's shorts was red ... not clear. He put his hand under her leg to help her heave her bulk into the car and his hand came away red too.

He closed the door and looked over at Mirriam, who was searching in her purse for the keys.

"I'll drive," he said tersely. "You help her breathe." He went around and, as he got closer, whispered. "She's bleeding, Mamma. I'm going to drive fast, so buckle in."

They got within two blocks of the hospital before Betty realized what was happening. Bobby fairly screeched to a stop by the Emergency Room doors and killed the engine before sprinting for the ER, while Mirriam tried to keep her daughter in the back seat until someone could come help. By the time Betty, who was freaking out, fought her way out of the back seat, two attendants and a nurse were there with a gurney.

They went straight through the waiting room, banging through two swinging double doors. Mirriam was allowed in. Bobby was not.

"We'll take care of her," said a burly female nurse, who Bobby would always swear had a thin black moustache on her upper lip. "You just sit down and relax. Your wife is in good hands."

"She's my sister," said Bobby automatically.

"Oh," said the nurse. "Well you probably know her well enough to help get the paperwork started then."

She took him to an office, where he found out Mirriam had already filled out the paperwork, earlier. All he had to do was confirm which daughter they had just brought in.

He had only been away from his family members for fifteen minutes when he returned to where they had disappeared. He almost ran into his mother as she was escorted out of the double doors by another nurse, who was talking to her.

"Just go on up to the second floor," said the nurse. "We'll have her up there as soon as possible. Even if she needs a transfusion, they can handle that up there."

"But where are they taking the baby?" asked a clearly half crazed Mirriam.

"Second floor!" barked the nurse. She turned around and hurried back through the double doors.

"Baby?" Bobby was confused.

Mirriam seemed to see him for the first time and fell against him, crying.

It turned out her tears were ones of relief, but it took three or four minutes for Bobby to calm her down enough to get the information out of her.

Betty had suffered what the doctor had said was a detached placenta, which was causing the bleeding. They'd examined her right on the gurney and the doctor had ordered them to take her straight to surgery for a Cesarean section. Mirriam had stood petrified, as Betty had screamed that she felt like pushing.

"The doctor was pulling the gurney toward the elevator doors," gasped Mirriam. "Betty was screaming that she wanted to push and the doctor said it couldn't hurt anything and told her to go ahead!"

Mirriam stopped and her eyes went out of focus.

"And then she had the baby!" Mirriam's voice was hollow, still amazed by what she'd seen. "She pushed twice and had the baby right there in the hallway!"

"You're kidding!" gasped Bobby.

A blood-curdling scream came clearly through the double doors. Both Mirriam and Bobby recognized it as Betty's voice, and both of them started for the doors. The same burly nurse intercepted them as they pushed the doors open.

"She's all right," insisted the nurse, her voice urgent, but hushed. "When she had that baby, there hadn't been an episiotomy, and she tore. She lost so much blood that they couldn't wait. They're sewing her up now. There just wasn't time for anesthetic."

Another agonized scream washed down the hall and Mirriam's eyes overflowed with tears.

"Can't you give me a mask or something?" she pleaded.

The nurse seemed to waver, and then looked at Bobby.

"All right, but only one of you! You go sit down," she said, her eyes pinned on Bobby.

All in all, it only took an hour for things to calm down. Once the tearing had been taken care of, they gave Betty a sedative and she relaxed. She had suffered no permanent injury, only loss of blood, and they gave her a pint to offset that until her body could produce more. While that was going on, Bobby went up to the second floor.

It was by chance that he ran into a nurse who had been recently hired. When he asked to see the Dalton baby, she naturally thought he must be the father. She took him to the nursery, where a darling baby girl was wrapped up, none the worse for wear, despite her tumultuous entry into the world.

Bobby was the first to hold her, not counting the medical personnel.

It was Bobby, in fact, accompanied by a nervous nurse, who brought his newest daughter into Betty's room, once she was settled in. She and Mirriam turned their eyes to the man holding the baby. The sedative notwithstanding, Betty burst into tears as her daughter was laid on her chest.

Ten minutes later, when a staff member entered the room to complete the required paperwork, Betty named her daughter Veronica. It was not one of the names she had mentioned before and Mirriam had to ask her about that.

"From the comic books," she said, gazing adoringly at the little girl in her arms. "Betty's best friend is Veronica."

Once things settled down at home, Bobby took the chance to get away by taking Agatha Roberts to a museum in Wichita. They talked on the way and he took her to a burger joint. It had been literally years since Agatha's mouth had been awash with the rich tastes of hamburger, fries and a strawberry shake. She felt positively decadent as her body reacted to the explosion of sensations in her mouth.

By the time he dropped her off at her house ... after dark so no one would be likely to see them together ... she was more confused than ever about Bobby Dalton. He was so nice! He was such fun to be with! He didn't molest her or act sexually aggressive in any way!

Her world wasn't making sense any more, at least insofar as this man was concerned. It made her wonder what other facets of her life might be based on shaky data.

On a Friday night, the twenty-sixth of August, Bobby was reading in bed when Betty's urgent voice called him to the living room, where she had been watching TV. He got there to see Misty Compton on TV, leaving what was obviously a hospital, holding a bundle in her arms. Madge was there with her and looked distinctly uncomfortable in the background, as the camera centered on Misty. She was being peppered with questions about the baby in her arms and, in particular, who the father of that baby was. There was a man with her who Bobby recognized as her agent. He was trying to hold Misty's elbow, but she kept pulling it away from him. Misty held up her hand as flashbulbs kept popping. There were obviously a lot of people there.

"I'd like to introduce Shawnee Compton to you," she said, without preamble.

"Compton?" asked the interviewer. "Aren't you going to name the baby after its father?"

Misty leaned toward the microphone and smiled.

"I met Shawnee's father while I was on tour," she said. "I bumped into him accidentally. Everybody has accidents," she said.

"You mean everybody makes mistakes," said the interviewer.

Misty kept smiling. "I meant what I said. Shawnee was an accident, but she's certainly no mistake. I love my daughter. That it's impossible for us to be with her father right now is regrettable, but don't ever call her a mistake."

"Who is Shawnee's father?" insisted the interviewer.

"I don't have any privacy," said Misty, looking around at the crowd around her. "I can live with that. I love all of you for being so interested in me and my music. But her father deserves his privacy. You'll just have to be satisfied with me for now."

"Are you going to marry him?" yelled someone off camera and off mike.

Her smile never wavered. "He hasn't asked me yet," she said. "If he ever does, then I might have more to say on that subject."

Bobby turned to find three women staring at him. Two of them held infants in their arms.

"You are so bad, Bobby!" sighed Betty.

"I can't believe you didn't offer to marry Misty Compton!" moaned Matilda.

Mirriam just rolled her eyes.

"We talked about it," said Bobby. "She wouldn't let me ask her. Her mamma was right there too!"

"You are so bad!" repeated Betty.

Lest the reader be tricked into thinking that the twins were disgusted with Bobby, let the record be set straight. They were not disgusted. Both girls had ample experience in dealing with babies, though admittedly not babies quite that young. Still, as they settled into the role of mothers, they were delighted. It was only natural, as they felt the upwelling of intense emotional attachment to their offspring, that they felt an intense emotional attachment to the father of those offspring, as well.

The girls had shared a room their entire lives. Having babies added to that mix was interesting. Even though the babies weren't twins, they were treated as if they were. And, to some degree, they acted like twins. They slept together and tended to be hungry at the same time.

Still, it was a little crowded. There was some talk, in the beginning, about splitting into separate rooms, but no one was happy with that idea. The extra rooms were needed for the B&B operation, for one thing. And the twins couldn't conceive of living apart.

It was while Bobby was in the barn, one day, that he got an idea. The barn, as a structure, was old, but solid. The roof was only three years old and the interior never got wet, even in the strongest storms. In the past, it had been used to store the equipment needed to farm the land, but since Mirriam rented the land out to other farmers these days, much of that equipment had been sold. Now the barn was mostly empty.

As Bobby looked around, it occurred to him that he could build a house, of sorts, inside the barn. One end of the lower section could be used for such a purpose, creating, in effect, four or five rooms. As he stood there, his feet on the dusty ground, he envisioned a common area, with living room, kitchen and laundry facilities, with two and possibly three rooms around it that could be used either as bedrooms for B&B customers or as rooms for the staff of the B&B to live in, freeing bedrooms in the house. From the inside of such an "apartment," the only thing that would suggest they were inside a barn would be the lack of windows. And, since there would be two sides of the barn involved, even that obstacle could be overcome with the right planning.

He waited until he'd completed drawings of the idea to talk to his mother. Her reaction was both more ... and less than he'd expected.

"It's an interesting idea," she said. "We have plenty of time to think about it, though."

Bobby got up and looked at the clock. It was two in the morning. The babies had been crying for half an hour. He went to the twins' door and tapped on it before walking in.

Both babies were distressed. The girls had eaten a bowl of chili for supper, without thinking about the effect the beans would have on their breast milk. Both were pacing, trying to comfort babies who didn't understand what the pain in their bellies meant. Both were tired. Caring for a baby at Renee's was a part time job. This wasn't.

Bobby took his turn holding and patting the backs of crying babies, since no one could sleep. An hour and a half later, they calmed. It wasn't until after that that Mirriam arrived, bottles of formula ready for the infants.

That left Betty and Matilda with swollen breasts full of milk that wasn't suitable for their children.

While Mirriam fed the babies in one room, the girls fed Bobby in another. It would have been comical to an observer. Once Bobby started sucking at a nipple it continued to leak when he switched to another. While he attended to Matilda, Betty stood by the bed, leaning over, dripping onto a towel. Then they switched places and Matilda leaked while Bobby nursed at Betty's flowing breasts. It was messy, and involved a lot of licking by Bobby's tongue. It was the first time since giving birth, however, that either young woman had been sexually stimulated by the man who had impregnated them. Both expressed disappointment that it would be almost another month before they would have the doctor's clearance to have sex again.

September brought unseasonably cool weather with it, and temperatures dropped nightly into the high thirties. Agatha had learned how to light her furnace after Harry's death, but she still lay under three blankets, snuggling in the warmth they provided and thinking.

Bobby had taken her someplace almost weekly. She was always amazed at the kind of things he took her to do. She wore her hair in a ponytail more and more these days, because it was so simple to deal with that way. It also made her feel younger, for some reason, and she liked that. So, too, did the things Bobby took her to do. Hutchinson was close by and no one there knew her, so it was a popular destination for what she began thinking of more and more as dates. He had taken her bowling one night. She had bowled as a teenager and that came back to her easily, though she didn't do all that well.

Now, snug in bed, she thought about what they'd done this evening. It brought a mix of emotions to her. He'd taken her roller skating, again in Hutch. That was something she hadn't done much in high school. He was obviously not very accomplished either. They had ended up holding on to each other most of the night, just to stay upright ... and that was what was causing her confusion.

At first she thought he must be posturing ... that he was better than he was acting and just wanted an excuse to touch her. That she needed something ... or someone ... to hold on to had overcome her natural resistance to being in close contact with him.

But it had become clear that he really was as inexperienced at this, moreso even than she was. That seemed odd, because a man didn't make himself look foolish when he was trying to seduce a woman. And that suggested he wasn't trying to seduce her. But he kept asking her to go places with him. It was very confusing.

She remembered the feel of his strong hands on her waist and shoulders. He could have grabbed at other parts of her body, but twice he let himself fall instead of doing that. And she remembered the feel of his muscles under the shirt he was wearing, as she'd gripped his arm and waist. Even his hips had been hard as rock, so much different than the soft flab that Harry had had all over his body.

She smiled in the dark. It had been fun! Even as foolish as she'd felt, it had been fun, because he was just as silly, trying to skate and only barely succeeding.

But it seemed almost obvious that he wasn't trying to seduce her.

That confused her. He'd said she was young. He'd said she looked nice. He'd admitted he went around with a lot of women. She knew, deep inside her, that some of those women had done things with him ... nasty things ... in the dark ... just like where she was at this moment.

"What's wrong with me?" she asked herself. "Why isn't he trying to seduce me?"

Agatha woke. Her sleep had been troubled ... she knew she'd dreamed ... but she couldn't remember the dreams. She got up, as she usually did, and her bare feet hit cold floor. It was freezing!

She put her robe on over her nightgown and hurried to the furnace. The pilot light was out. She knelt, peering inside the little door as she tried to relight it with a match. It wouldn't light. She tried again, pushing hard on the button with one finger and holding the match where she knew it was supposed to go. Still nothing. She tried a third time, with the same results.

"This is Bobby," he said, answering the phone.

"It's Agatha," she said.

"I'm surprised," he said. "After last night I was afraid you'd never talk to me again. How are your bruises?"

She found herself smiling. "It wasn't that bad," she said. She was surprised because she meant it. "But that's not why I'm calling. I can't get my furnace to light and it's freezing. Do you know anything about furnaces?"

"Give me an hour," he said.

She was shivering. She'd put on a dress and a sweater, and was hugging herself, but it was still cold. She looked at the tight jeans stretched over the backside of Bobby Dalton's behind, while he tinkered with the furnace. She realized she'd been staring at that backside for some time and blushed, looking away. He'd removed the front panel of the furnace and she looked at that, leaning against the wall.

He got up.

"As best I can tell, the regulator isn't working. He had a flashlight and turned it on. "And, besides that, I noticed something here." He pointed to something at the top of the furnace. "There's a crack there," he said. "It's in the combustion chamber and that's not good. I think you need a new furnace."

"Can you do that?" she asked.

"If it were at my house, I might," he said, doubtfully. "I'm not comfortable doing it for you, though. Gas is risky stuff. I think you should get a professional to do it."

"I don't know anything about buying a furnace," she moaned.

"That I can help you with," he said.

It had warmed up by the time the negotiations were finished and Agatha had an appointment for a new furnace to be installed. The problem was that the man was busy and couldn't get to the job for three or four days. As they left the plumbing and heating shop, Agatha didn't know what to do.

"It was freezing this morning," she said. "I can't stay in the house with no furnace."

It just seemed natural to stop on the sidewalk, as they talked about what to do next.

"Can you afford to stay at a motel?" he asked.

"I can afford it," she said. "But being in a strange place ... all alone?" She shuddered.

"We've got a room free at the B&B," he said. "More than one, I think."

She stared at him. "You're joking!"

"I am?" He looked confused. "Why would I do that?"

It didn't take him long to figure it out.

"Ahhhhh," he said, almost smiling. "You couldn't possibly go out there and stay at a den of iniquity."

Agatha bristled. "What would my friends think?" she said automatically.

"If they'd think that about you ... how can you call them your friends?" he asked, no longer feeling the urge to smile. "Am I the beast you thought I was?"

It never occurred to Agatha that he might have been tempering his otherwise normal urges while he was with her. She believed that people had certain kinds of personalities and that those personalities drove their actions. She was the kind of person who used platitudes like "You can't change a leopard's spots."

"No," she said and was immediately sorry she had. This wasn't going according to her plan. "I don't think so," she amended.

He sighed. "Okay, then, why don't you just stay with one of your friends?"

Agatha thought about that. The thought of being an extra wheel in Gladys' or Ethyl's house, with their husbands there ... She'd be under foot. She'd be around whichever one of them she stayed with all the time. She wondered briefly why that made her feel uncomfortable. Still ... it was better than going out there and living under the same roof as ... that woman. She turned to tell Bobby that she'd call Ethyl, only to see that very woman walking toward them, accompanied by her husband, Phil.

They were standing between Rader's plumbing and heating and the shop next door to it, which was a flower shop and which was Ethyl's destination. She needed to order flowers to be sent to the funeral of one of her cousins. Of course Agatha didn't know that. All she knew was that Ethyl had seen her standing and talking to Bobby Dalton. Panic set in instantly. It included the infusion of blood to her chest and cheeks in a blush that almost made her appear to have a sunburn. Ethyl stopped a few feet away, a frown on her face, and questions in her eyes.

"My furnace broke!" Agatha blurted. She stepped away from Bobby. "Bobby ... Mister Dalton tried to fix it ... but couldn't." She added weakly.

Bobby turned his head to look at her, seeing the fear in her stiff stance, then looked at Ethyl and Phil. Phil seemed bored, as if there were no one present that he was interested in greeting or talking to.

Ethyl stared at her friend, who was obviously embarrassed much more than was required, if what she'd just said was all that was wrong. And if ... this man ... hadn't been able to fix the furnace ... what was he doing with her here? Suspicion bloomed in her mind. Agatha was a single woman. Bobby Dalton was well known to prey on such women. Ethyl had always thought of Agatha as something of a weakling. It was easy for her to assume that Bobby Dalton had used this opportunity to wiggle his way into Agatha's confidence.

"I was just going to ask you if I could stay with you for a few days," said Agatha, trying not to blush and failing. "Until they put a new furnace in."

Ethyl's eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid that won't be possible," she said. "We have to go to a funeral in Missouri. I'm just here seeing about flowers for that very thing."

Phil perked up then.

"I thought we were just going to send flowers," he objected.

"You misunderstood me, dear," his wife said smoothly. "Now, we have to go. There is much to do to get ready." She turned back to Agatha. "Good day, Agatha," she said.

Agatha stood, staring after her friend who had hurried inside the flower shop, dragging her husband with her. Her blush was gone. It had been replaced by a pasty white look, as the blood drained from her face and a cold, hard knot of fear settled into her stomach.

"I can't believe that!" she gasped.

"Believe what?" asked Bobby.

"She just snubbed me!" squealed Agatha.

"What are you talking about?" asked Bobby.

"You heard him! They weren't planning on driving to Missouri. She only said that because she saw me with you!"

"I'm sorry," said Bobby. "I was just trying to help."

"I know that!" she snapped. "I can't believe she did that!"

She stopped and slumped.

"I'm ruined," she moaned.

"You're not serious," said Bobby. "Come on, it's not that bad."

"Yes it is," she said firmly. "You don't know her. Inside of half an hour nobody will talk to me. You just watch!"

"And you call these people your friends?" asked Bobby softly.

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