Something To Look At
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About this ebook
Bobby’s earliest dream is to be a major league pitcher. Peggy, his grade school friend, becomes his unofficial pitching coach and mentor as he pursues his goal. Goals, friendship, tragedy, and sacrifice, all cement, or deter, Peggy and Bobby’s relationship. They both learn you must accept your adversities and go beyond them.
Mary Lou Danielson
Sit back, relax by a roaring fire, by the pool, or just in a comfy chair. Have a cup of tea or cocoa...or a nice glass of wine. There will be no monsters, mild horror, mild blood and guts, no war, or nightmares. Lull yourself in soft romance and contemporary relationships in the real world, and maybe partake of a few mild sexual scenes. You will be dredged in the emotions of the characters as they pursue love and overcome adversities, broken relationships, or grief and loss. Snuggle with a box of tissues for tears or laugher, but reserve a period of time for my stories to transport you to the land of contentment.Attention quilters: I am in the process of converting my easy to make, quilt patterns to ebooks. You may download them to your computer, ereader, or smartphone."Like me" at the link listed below to my facebook page to receive updates of new ebooks or e-quilt patterns.
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Something To Look At - Mary Lou Danielson
SOMETHING TO LOOK AT
By Mary L. Danielson
Published by Mary L. Danielson
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Mary L. Danielson
Cover Artist: Mary L. Danielson
Cover Photo by: Michael L. Price, http://papaboop.smugmug.com/
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This publication is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events in this book are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real people, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author. The author acknowledges that any reference to a trademarked name, has been used fictionally, and are not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Smashwords Edition license Statement
This eBooks is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBooks may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please download an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this eBook and did not download it, or it was not downloaded for your use only, then you should return to the eBook retailer from whom it was acquired and download your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Parental rating: this book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under. It may contain mildly explicit sexual scenes or mild swearing.
SOMETHING TO LOOK AT
By: Mary L. Danielson
CHAPTER 1
She was certainly something to look at, as she rolled toward her destination on her big black wheels. If the passengers were beautiful or ugly, nice or nasty, rich or poor, no one cared when the1957 Rolls Royce pulled to the curb, because all eyes were on the car. Aside from being a Rolls, she had classic lines that drew the eye in admiration: the gentle curves of the fenders, shiny chrome, and the feel of status. Her mirror-finish mimicked her surroundings, reflecting hues from baby-bottom beige to robin-egg blue. During the December holidays, she twinkled, reflecting Christmas lights from nearby decorations and store windows.
Amateur photographers surrounded her, snapping pictures of her beauty. Men used their wives, daughters, or girlfriends as improvised models, with the Rolls Royce as backdrop. Thomas, the immaculately uniformed, English chauffer could be coerced into lending his presence to the photograph. Thomas and the Rolls together, dripped opulence, but could also mask the adversity of her occupants.
Thomas kept the Rolls spotless and ready to transport the family members at a moment’s notice. He couldn’t be more proud of his child than he was of that car. He never released the car to valet; instead, he drove to the far side of the parking lot and guarded her until he retrieved his charges.
The first, of Peggy’s many rides in the Rolls, was in the third grade. Bobby’s father owned the car, but every day Thomas delivered Bobby to school and waited patiently, after school, until baseball practice ended. Thomas was part watchman and part driver to the nine year old boy, and would be throughout his life. Peggy would become Bobby’s lifelong friend, and the Rolls would transport them through their ups and downs.
Peggy Aaron sat in the front, right seat in every class and Bobby Aberdeen sat immediately behind her. Near the end of third grade, when this arrangement began, he teased her unmercifully: a knee or foot pushing her chair, a tug on her braids, or a bump against her arm as he walked past. She tried scooting her chair forward to avoid his peskiness, but shortly his position oozed within inches. His favorite prank was a dropped pencil, so he could crawl after it on the floor and blow the hairs on her leg, narrowly avoiding her kick. Finally she had enough, jumped from her chair, got right down in his face and yelled, Bobby Aberdeen, I don’t care who you are, if you pull my hair again I will whoop you after class. Don’t think I can’t, because I have two older brothers I can beat up.
Bobby was startled, and pretended to be afraid, while the other boys laughed at him. Peggy was ready to turn on them too, until the teacher directed her to her seat. The boys taunted her after school, but she followed them to the baseball field, and sat in the bleachers, glowering at them. As a younger sister, she knew how boys could get her riled, but she could give it back, too. The excursion to the ball field became a daily event. She hooted when Bobby’s pitch was good and booed when it was bad, resulting in Bobby making a nasty face at her. They were on a merry-go-round, Bobby’s teasing in class, followed by Peggy’s torments while he pitched.
Bobby was determined to be a Major League pitcher, so even if they didn’t play a game, he practiced pitching as long as someone would stay to be his catcher. If the team left, Bobby put a bucket on a stool and threw at it, but it fell off so often, he constantly stopped to reset the bucket. Peggy was impressed with his determination, but irritated by the slowness of his practice session. Finally, she marched to home plate, picketed up the bucket, set it right, and yelled, You pitch, I’ll fix the bucket.
This became the ritual for a week.
When all the boys left the next Monday, and Peggy Joined Bobby on the field, he handed her a glove and said, Do you know how to use a mitt?
She snatched the mitt and said, Of course I do, I have two brothers. They’d hit you if you thought they play with sissy things.
Fine,
said Bobby as he marched to the pitcher’s mound. When he turned back, she was standing behind home plate with the glove at chest height. Get down on the ground like a catcher, the mitt’s too high,
he yelled.
I’ll skin my knees on all the rocks,
she said.
Bobby huffed, flopped his arms to his side, and returned to the plate, and said, Kneel down with your knees on the plate, then rock back on the balls of your feet like a real catcher.
Peggy began the motion but dropped to her knees, I can’t do that, you’ll see up my dress and that’s naughty.
Bobby rolled his eyes. I don’t care about under your dress, because I’ll only look at the mitt.
No, it’s not nice,
she said adamantly.
Bobby pulled his sweater over his head, folded it, and placed it on the ground. Now, kneel on my sweater and hold the mitt chest height, so I can use it as a target. I won’t throw it too hard until you get used to catching it.
Just throw the ball, Bobby. I’ll get it.
After a few throws, Peggy caught most of his pitches, but she stood up each time to throw the ball back to him. By the end of the day, she was throwing from her knees and the practice was progressing.
Bobby brought a catcher’s glove the next day, Peggy changed into pants, and they practiced until he thought she was ready for some real pitching. He held the ball in his mitt, stared at her glove, began to raise his left knee,