The Making of a Gigolo (15) - Agatha Roberts

by Lubrican

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Chapter Four

To say it was uncomfortable in the kitchen, when Bobby ushered Agatha Roberts into it, is a bit of an understatement. He explained that he'd offered her a room at the B&B while her furnace was being installed.

The twins were back at work now, their own infants part of Renee's collection of children. The latest customers of the B&B had left that morning, climbing into their car with a satisfied wave at Mirriam, to go on their way. They had praised the accommodations, both for the service and because it wasn't any more expensive than staying in town, when the meal was factored in. Mirriam had been reading a magazine at the kitchen table when Bobby and Agatha arrived.

"You ... want to stay here?" Mirriam's voice was full of suspicion.

"I have to," said Agatha, her voice tight.

"There are complications," said Bobby, trying to be helpful.

Mirriam looked at her son, who was standing closer to the woman than she would have expected. Her suspicions flared even more. Surely he hadn't gotten involved with this woman! Bobby saw the thunder clouds gathering in his mother's eyes.

"I was trying to fix her furnace," he said easily. "It turned out to be something I couldn't do, so I helped her arrange to get a new one installed. One of her friends saw us together and ... well, it seems she has no place to stay now ... while the new furnace is being installed."

Mirriam felt relief first. If she'd had more time to think about it, she might have wondered why Agatha Roberts would have called Bobby to come see to her furnace in the first place, but events had already outpaced the time she had to react. Mirriam Dalton was, at heart, a woman who believed that tolerance was the bedrock of truly civilized people. That she and her friends did not receive the benefit of tolerance made it no less ingrained in her own personality.

Putting aside her misgivings, she welcomed Agatha Roberts to her home.

Mirriam's misgivings popped back up through the rest of the day, as she and Agatha did their best to be in different parts of the house. At one point Mirriam entertained thoughts that Agatha might be spying on them, trying to document something that could be used against them. She didn't know what that might be or how anything could be used against them, but she worried.

When evening came, however, and the twins got back home, and it was obvious the woman wasn't going out for supper, Mirriam simply put another plate on the table and invited Agatha to eat with them.

"That's not part of your service," said Agatha, looking up from the magazine she'd been leafing through. She didn't know what to do with herself in this strange house.

"I know," said Mirriam. "I've set a place. You can join us or not, as you wish."

The fact was that Agatha's stomach was already rumbling. She'd missed lunch. Bobby had disappeared about an hour after he'd brought her here, before she'd realized she should have brought her own car here instead of riding with him.

The twins were used to ignoring people who didn't approve of them. They'd grown up with a kind of social armor that had let the disapproving looks bounce right off. And, both had their babies to tend to. Both girls were used to breastfeeding wherever and whenever they needed to. After everyone was seated, Matilda cooed into Joseph's face "You're a hungry little man, aren't you!"

Mirriam casually said, "Feed him in the bedroom, please."

Matilda looked up, then at Agatha, who was paying attention to the food on her plate.

"Sure," said Matilda, rising.

Bobby came in while Matilda was walking out.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, washing his hands at the kitchen sink. "I wanted to get the fence finished over at the Tucker place before I stopped."

"How is she?" asked Mirriam, referring to Louise Tucker, a woman of indeterminate age who lived in a tiny house on the edge of town.

"She's fine," said Bobby. "Her daughter hasn't called her in a week and she was fussing about that. I took it that her daughter is sick and Louise is afraid she'll outlive her."

"What was wrong with her fence?" asked Mirriam.

"She's got that little terrier. It found a place to get out of the fence and barked at the mail man. He squirted soapy water in its face and Louise got all upset. She says the dog is fifteen years old and can't see well enough to bite anybody. She asked me to fix the fence to protect her dog." He grinned.

Agatha sat listening to the chatter at the table. It was odd, somehow, though she couldn't put her finger on why. The girls she remembered as being skinny thirteen-year-olds were all grown up now. She looked at them with their illegitimate babies, acting normal as pie. It was obvious they loved them and weren't ashamed at all. That was mildly confusing to her, but the food was so good and the table talk so pleasant, that she just let it surround her.

It wasn't until Mirriam offered her a piece of chocolate cake that she realized, with a start, what the oddity was. There hadn't been any gossip! Oh, they had talked about people they ran into that day, but it was just things like, "I saw Mrs. Thompson today. Her bursitis is better," or like what Bobby had said about poor old Louise and her dog. She also realized that she had expected something much different, unconsciously. She had expected them to try to make her an outcast ... just like Gladys or Ethyl ... or she would have done, had the roles been reversed. In her mind's eye she could just see Mirriam Dalton sitting at a table with the other women, forced to be there for some unknown reason. Gladys and Ethyl would have used the opportunity to throw barbs at her about her loose-willed daughters or the fact that she had her own little boy, born, like all her daughters, out of wedlock.

She looked at Theodore, who was playing with his food. He'd been included in the conversation too. Both the twins and Bobby had asked him what he'd done that day. He'd proudly shown them pictures he'd drawn with crayons and they had all complimented him on them.

But these people hadn't spoken harshly to her. True, very little had been directed at her at all, as the conversation ebbed and flowed, but she had the distinct impression that that was as much her own doing as theirs. She'd spent most of the meal looking at her plate instead of trying to get into the conversation.

Theodore looked back at her. He smiled.

After supper Bobby took Agatha back to her house to pick up her car and whatever else she needed.

"I hope you understand why I can't take you anywhere while you're staying with us," he said. "My mother wouldn't understand."

Agatha felt the pins and pricks of being discriminated against for something she had no control over. It was merely an extension of Ethyl discriminating against her too. She suddenly felt very lonely.

"I have a confession to make." It was out of her mouth before she realized it.

"What?" asked Bobby.

She had been about to blurt out her plan ... to tell him how she'd tried to destroy him. Her heart seized in her chest as she thought of being left alone in her cold house, no longer welcome anywhere in this town.

"Nothing," she said.

"You sure?" he asked.

She thought frantically for something to say. "Your mother is nicer than I thought," she said.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're nicer too," she blurted.

"Thanks again." He smiled at her and she felt even worse for having planned to ruin his life. "You want me to wait for you?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I'll be along shortly."

"Okay," he said. "While I'm in town I'm going to go get some ice cream. You know how they say pregnant women want ice cream and pickles? Not my sisters. Not while they were pregnant, anyway. Now that they've given birth they want all kinds of strange things to eat."

The ease with which he shared this little piece of information about his family only shoved the hot spike of guilt further into Agatha's belly. She turned away.

"Go get your ice cream," she said, her voice trembling. "I'll be along."

It was full dark when she finally pulled into the yard and parked. She almost hadn't come. She'd looked for more blankets, thinking to pile them all on the bed so she wouldn't have to face the people she felt so guilty about. But she knew that not returning would be a slap in Mirriam Dalton's face. After the hospitality she had offered, Agatha couldn't slap her in the face. She was amazed that she no longer wanted to slap Mirriam Dalton's face.

Even after leaving the house and getting in her car, she had been ambivalent. She'd driven around, more to have time to work up her courage than for any other reason. She'd driven by Ethyl's house. The lights were on and the car was there. Ethyl, her friend for years and years, had lied outright to her.

That headed her car toward the farm.

And so, here she was, looking at the warm yellow light that spilled out of the windows of a house where, despite who she was, she was welcome.

She got out of her car and got the suitcase that she'd put some clothes in and a book to read. She turned and dropped the suitcase with a thump, jumping back with a terrified squeak. Bobby was standing right next to her!

"Sorry!" he said, stepping back. "I was just coming back from the chicken coop with eggs for tomorrow morning. I didn't mean to startle you."

She saw the basket in his hand, with the eggs in it, and relaxed. She felt silly for being so scared. She watched him reach down and pick up the suitcase. Then she followed him into the house.

When they walked into the house, Betty was standing at the kitchen counter, scooping out some of the ice cream Bobby had brought home. She was dressed only in panties and a T shirt that showed quite plainly that her milk-swollen breasts were not confined in a bra. She looked over at them and her eyes widened.

"Oops!" she yipped. "I forgot we had a guest!"

Agatha watched the startled young woman scurry out of the kitchen ... with her ice cream in hand ... and turned to see what Bobby's reaction was. He was watching her go too and he was smiling. His eyes had a look to them that suggested he liked what he was seeing. She remembered that look in Harry's eyes, when they had first gotten married. It was the first time she'd ever seen anything in Bobby's eyes that suggested he thought like a ... man.

He went to the counter, put the egg basket on it and put her suitcase down. He put away the ice cream Betty had left on the counter and, as if nothing had happened, picked up her suitcase again.

"I'll just take this to your room," he said, glancing over at her. That look was no longer in his eye.

She thought to just follow him. She could stay in her room, reading, until she got sleepy. But that wild look that had been in his eye ... that look of maleness ... made something from supper twitch in her stomach. If she followed him, she'd be in a bedroom with him. She felt the blush stain her cheeks and wondered why that bothered her. She'd been alone with him in that tree house. There were people here with them. She didn't have more time to puzzle about that, because Mirriam came into the room.

"There you are," she said. "I was just thinking about heading to bed, but I wanted to wait up for you. Is there anything you need?"

"I'm fine," said Agatha.

"There are towels in the bathroom," said Mirriam. "You can take a shower or a bath, if you like. Breakfast is at eight, but if that's too early I can leave it warming in the oven."

"Thank you," said Agatha, feeling something rising in her throat. She swallowed, as Mirriam flashed a smile.

"You're welcome."

Matilda was the only person in the living room when Agatha wandered in. The relaxed atmosphere in the house was further exemplified by the fact that Matilda was calmly suckling her baby while she was watching television. She was wearing shorts, like the ones Agatha owned but rarely wore and, like her sister, did not have on a bra. She had pulled up her T shirt and while the baby was sucking at one breast, her fingers seemed to be squeezing the other nipple. Agatha stopped short and stared.

Agatha had never seen a woman breastfeeding before. Something visceral welled up inside her. She knew she should be upset by this woman flaunting her breast in public. Then it occurred to Agatha that this wasn't public. This was this woman's home. Something must have alerted Matilda that someone else was in the room, because she turned her head.

Like Betty, her eyes widened.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to stand up. "I thought you were in bed."

"Stay there," said Agatha, impulsively.

"You sure?" asked Matilda, sinking back into the chair. "I can go to my bedroom."

"You live here," said Agatha. "It's all right. I should be the one to leave."

"I don't mind," said the young woman. "If you don't."

Agatha felt like she should leave. But she didn't want to leave. She took a few tentative steps into the room.

"I've never actually seen anybody feeding a baby," she said.

"It's messy," said Matilda, smiling. "I have to hold one closed while he sucks at the other one or I'll leak all over the place. Mamma keeps trying to get me to use a nursing bra, but they feel so confining."

She looked back at the TV, which was turned down low.

"What do you want to watch?" she asked. "I'm just killing time while my greedy little boy stuffs himself."

"I don't really watch much TV," said Agatha. She went a few more steps and sat, a little stiffly, in another chair.

The baby fussed and Matilda looked down. She did what looked like a complicated maneuver that turned the baby from one direction to the other and put the nipple she had been holding closed at its mouth. It latched on and sucked noisily.

"Doesn't that hurt?" asked Agatha. She blushed, astonished that she'd spoken the question aloud.

"Not at all." There was something buttery in the woman's voice ... some husky quality that suggested pain was in no way shape or form involved. She pulled the T shirt down over the empty breast.

Agatha just sat and watched. She felt warm suddenly and took off the sweater she'd been wearing. Matilda fiddled with the baby's mouth.

"Don't quit now," she complained. "You always do this to me. You empty one and get the other one going, then go to sleep. Now I'm going to have to go get ..." She stopped and looked up at Agatha, almost furtively. "I'll just go put him down to sleep," said Matilda.

TV didn't interest Agatha. Her book was in her suitcase. She had no idea where Bobby was, but he probably wasn't in her room. She got up and stopped at the table where a jigsaw puzzle was half put together. She liked puzzles, so she sat down.

She was fully involved in working on it when a shadow fell over the table. She looked up to see Bobby.

"Want any help?" he asked.

"All right," she said.

He sat down. There was something white on the corner of his lip. He saw her looking at his mouth and his hand came up to wipe it away.

"Toothpaste," he said calmly.

"Oh," she said.

When she looked at her watch she was astonished to see it was almost midnight. She and Bobby had been working on the puzzle for hours. There had been very little talk, but it didn't bother her. There didn't seem to be any need for it. They'd also gotten a lot of the puzzle put together.

"Whoever started this is going to be mad at us," she said, putting another piece in.

"I doubt it," he said. "If we finish it we can always just tear it up again and let someone else do it too."

That would never have occurred to Agatha. When you finished a puzzle you admired it, then put it back in the box and put the box away. Wasn't that what everyone did? Besides, it was only seventy-five percent done and it was already midnight.

"We can't finish it," she said. "It's too late."

"I'm working here tomorrow," he said. "I can sleep late. You have anything better to do?"

"It's midnight!" she sighed. "It's long past bedtime."

"If you don't have to go to work the next day, bedtime should be whenever you feel like going to bed. Do you feel like going to bed?"

The emotion that zipped through Agatha had nothing to do with Bobby's intent. It was just a quirk of her ears as they singled out his line: "Do you feel like going to bed?" It's understandable that the way in which she had viewed this man, whom she and her friends suspected of sleeping around, might cause her to interpret those words a little differently than the spirit in which they were used.

For a few seconds her mind buzzed with the concept that he had just suggested they go to bed ... together. Then the events of the past days and weeks brought clarity back to her mind. Of course that wasn't what he'd meant.

"You okay?" he asked, looking with concern at her pale face.

Something almost snapped inside Agatha Roberts. She couldn't remember the last time Harry had spent this much time doing anything with her. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had spent this much time with her. She felt the urge to touch him and that scared her. She stood, bumping the card table with her thighs.

"It's late," she gasped.

Then she hurried to her room.

Bobby sat, watching Agatha's retreating form. He recognized what he'd seen in her eyes, but he couldn't believe it. There, for a few seconds, he'd seen desire. He leaned back in his chair, still looking at where she had disappeared from view. She was always a bundle of repressed emotion. She seemed angry at one moment, distant at another, calm the next second. She'd been terrified when they ran into Ethyl and Phil, then hopeless. She'd been subdued at supper, but calm and relaxed as all get out while they worked on the puzzle. He looked at the puzzle and again compared her to one.

He stood. Matilda had come to him to have her breast emptied. Betty had not. He hadn't seen her since she left the kitchen with her ice cream.

He went to their room, tapped softly and went in.

Matilda was already in bed, the covers pulled over her head. Betty was sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair. She looked at him in the mirror.

"I wondered where you were," said Betty, taking her T shirt off. "It's about time."

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