Paddy O' & Curly Slim, Book I - The Emotionally Stirring First Novel of an Exciting New Six-book Series: Series of 6 books

By Richie Patton

Beginning as a fresh, relatable Coming-Of-Age/Love story of two unforgettable teens, P A D D Y O' & C U R L Y S L I M, grows through the first book and its five sequels into an exciting, multi-families saga.

 

The life-affirming and inspirational tale of unique, diverse and colorful characters throbs with: tragedy and joy, drama and humor, bruising moments and tenderness, tough love and affection, revelations and challenges, action and adventure with a generous helping of faith, loyalty and endurable love … And, more … much more …

 

Aside from the extraordinary dog Corker, the part-Aboriginal nurse from the outback of Australia, the Untouchable Rodiya people of Sri Lanka, the fascinating scenes from the USA and many foreign ports and cities … a BONUS book within a book. That is, the absorbing memoir of the 19th and 20th century adventures of an English orphan boy who rises from cabin boy/cook's helper on a magnificent sailing ship to become an European and American industrialist.

 

The entertaining, provocative and ageless story lines and themes of this memorable series are most fitting for today's Teens, Young Adults, Grownups and savvy Seniors desiring a good read.

 

Readers will stand up and cheer and long remember the captivating characters whose tragic external incidents, inner struggles and victories become their own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richie Patton
• Release date: Aug 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201721015

Richie Patton

Born and raised in inner city Chicago, Il, Richie spent all but three weeks of his high school years in Royal Oak, MI. The father of five beautiful offspring, he and the original Curly Slim, his wife, Betty, now call South Carolina home.

Book preview

PADDY O’ &

CURLY SLIM

Book I

(An inspiring tale of rough new beginnings and kindred spirit love)

by

RICHIE

The emotionally stirring first novel of an exciting new series.

ACCLAIM FOR

Richie and PADDY O’ & CURLY SLIM**

REALLY ENJOYING THE book. I just finished Chapter 10 and don’t want to put it down! Love the characters and your descriptive writing. I can picture everything in my mind. Terrific! — M. M.

I liked the book. It has a good plot with some interesting moments of intrigue. – C. F.

I adore the story. All the characters are brought to life with such detail and I find myself living in their world. — R. M.

The characters are interesting and the progression of the story is both expected and not, which for me are musts in a good read. Paddy – adore him. His internal dialogue feels real. He has great appeal. I like seeing how he matures and gets better working through his mounting problems. Rhonda – cool girl. Lots of ... class. Really like the little sit-down between Rhonda’s Mom and Paddy. All the characters who came into Paddy’s life subsequently made for a good story. – N. S.

"You connected me to people. Love each of the characters. I could really be friends with Joey. What a refreshing read – not riddled with descriptive sexual scenes, violence ... but references to great values (hard work, praying, devotion, etc.). So now that I finished

the first part through tear-filled eyes, please send the rest of this wonderful story." – J. P.

I enjoyed your book very much and would highly recommend it. It is a fun book. The relationship between Rhonda and Paddy works well. There’s adventure, comedy and warm caring. I think Corker is a wonderful dog. I can just picture him. – N. M.

** Comments from readers of the book’s manuscript before publication. Used with their permission.

WHAT’S IT ALL ABOUT?

WHEN GROWING UP CAN seem too hard.

Sharing the human experience of life, love and growth while standing up for your own beliefs and convictions.

Facing challenging coming-of-age issues successfully and thriving in life.

TEEN PADRAIGH ALOYSIUS Paddy O’Shaughnessy, the hard-working only son of austere, emotionally-distant immigrant parents, can’t remember a time when he wasn’t made to feel like a barely tolerated appendage in his own family. And, worse.

Then, he meets Rhonda Duczinski.

Following an extended illness at home, Paddy’s abusive, tyrannical father, Rory, dies – the second tough personal loss for the young teen since age thirteen. He reels from conflicted feelings of relief, regret and underlying guilt.

Smart but largely ill-formed and uninformed, the self-conscious, alienated boy also struggles with his own exasperating problems – undisclosed Manic-Depression and repression from years of stifling parental conditioning, upsetting new situations and relationships, all while simultaneously fighting the

anxiety of coming to grips with finding his true self.

When thrust into the role of the family’s main breadwinner while completing his senior year of high school, tensions flare with his aloof, controlling mother, Molly.

To make matters worse, a stranger makes himself known to the family. With the man’s demand, he appears to be a threat to their stability and well-being. However, the unique widower astounds with a surprising revelation, an extraordinary vow and supportive generosity.

Rhonda, the vivacious, precocious and emboldened teen daughter of a loving immigrant family, is the first female to show Paddy genuine understanding, affection and need for him. Through a number of dificulties, the teens’ love and need for one another deepen into inseparable soul mates.

On her seventeenth birthday, Rhonda is severely injured in a car accident. Stunned, Paddy inspirationally responds to her hospitalization, subsequent coma and paralysis. Weeks later, Rhonda comes out of the coma but shockingly rejects Paddy.

Overcome, Paddy is devastated. Can he endure a third heartrending loss in his young life and not slide back into the dark abyss of depression, again? What will the future hold without Rhonda – the girl he desperately

needs, the one who has helped him loosen the mental chains that have bound him, who uplifted him to what love is?

And, what about Rhonda, the girl he would die for?

PADDY O’ &

CURLY SLIM

(An inspiring tale of rough new beginnings and kindred spirit love)

A memorable novel by RICHIE

Copyright © 2013 & 2018

by Richard A. Patton (writing as RICHIE).

GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGEMENT is made to Warner/Chappell Music, Inc. for permission to reprint song excerpts from: The Cry of the Wild Goose by Terry Gilkyson. Copyright© 1949 by Unichappell Music, Inc. and, from I Have But One Heart by Johnny

Farrow and Marty Symes. Copyright© 1945 by Unichappell Music, Inc. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission from the author. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

ISBN

COVER DESIGN BY: LORRAINE Wilner (with an assist by Haley Roth)

ix

This book is dedicated to the one and only authentic Curly Slim – partner, lover, mother of our five beautiful critters, soul mate – my wife, Betty. As she would rightly say, Living with an Irishman builds character.

x

Acknowledgements

Creating and putting words to paper for a novel (the beginning of a scintillating saga), as I have well learned with PADDY O’ & CURLY SLIM , is a superfantastabulific trip. An incomparable journey at once demanding and humbling, often emotionally exhilarating and always satisfying beyond measure. My hope is that, in the succeeding pages, readers will experience the latter two emotions as well.

Part of the writing process, even in a story of fiction, is the need to provide factual information accurately. With a suspect memory, to accomplish this required I rely on a number of very helpful people. For good reasons, all my contacts – beyond my long-suffering wife at home – were either via the Internet and, to a lesser extent, by telephone. I hope that one day, good Lord willing, I’ll have the opportunity to express my deep gratitude in person to all of you for your kindness and generosity.

All your responses to my requests, though not always directly included in the finished book, were considerably helpful. They not only provided me necessary information but illuminating imagery from which I could see to make the writing actually materialize. This was particularly true of the many

xi

WONDERFUL PHOTOS RECEIVED. Aside from their crucial benefit to the creation of the book itself, it was just plain exciting seeing photos of a past I remember with such fondness.

In several cases, I did take literary liberty – an alliterative kin to dramatic license – distorting fact of what you sent purely for dramatic effect and to move the story along. Thus, without boring you with the details of those instances, I put the blame squarely where it belongs – on me the perpetrator – and to absolve you the contributors of any blame for misleading facts or my Celtic whimsy.

The wonderful contributors in random order are: Muriel Versagi, Rita Simons, Sr. Benedicta Mahoney, Jacek and Zophia Gonciarz, Patricia Higo, Bernadine Wojcik, Sr. Maureen McGarrigle, Melodie Nichols, Rene, Gail Bilkie, Carol Stinson Annette Kelly, Sue Flynn, Ann Suziedelis, Dr. Hertzler, James Pershing and former priests of The Shrine of the Little Flower, Royal Oak, MI. Also, the Parks and Forestry Division, Public Service Department of the same city.

MILE BUIOCHAS LE GACH**

** Irish (Gaelic) for: A thousand thanks to all.

xii

(CHILDREN) ‘HONOR YOUR father and mother’ is the first commandment to carry a promise with it ‘that it may go well with you, and that you may have a long life on earth.’Fathers, do not anger your children. Bring them up with the training and instruction befitting the Lord.

Ephesians 6: 2-4**

AND FATHERS, DO NOT nag your children lest they lose heart.

Colossians 3: 21**

** The New American Bible, Our Sunday Visitor, Inc., Huntington, IN

xiii

MAY THE SADDEST DAYS of the future be no worse than the happiest days of your past. **

"May flowers always line your path and sunshine light your day.

May songbirds serenade you every step along the way.

May a rainbow run beside you in a sky that’s always blue.

And may happiness fill your heart each day your whole life through." **

** IRISH BLESSING (FROM a number of different sources)

1

Chapter 1

The boy hunched his lean body over the fence, eyeballing the backyard. I’ve got to split , he muttered to himself, shaking his head dejectedly.

His once cheerless house was now immersed in gloom. The inaction of his parents was driving him up a wall. He wanted to scream, to get someone to do something, anything... But, from earliest memory, he knew well that any display of emotion – especially the raw emotion just itching to explode from him now – would only make the present situation worse.

Like much of the past week, his head was killing him and his body joints felt like a constant toothache. No amount of aspirin had quelled the pain. Part of him, in the dim hope of some solace, yearned to tell his parents about his hurt. Yet, his practical side, honed from bitter disappointments, conceded as it often did to silent forbearance. He was in no mood for his parents’dismissive bromides: It’s just growing pains. We all have to live with them, y’know. Or, "Offer it

2 Richard Patton

UP." BULLCRAP, HE SPAT to himself. His bloodshot eyes came to rest on a large, dark pink mound. It was curled beneath the bright blue blossoms of a huge hydrangea bush beside the picket fence on the opposite side of the yard. He sighed, a long noisy exhalation. Wish I could be that relaxed, he thought.

Corker, he mumbled, his tone flat, voice hoarse. The mound stirred. From it, a great black faced head lifted, bumping a shower of petals from several cheerleader pom pom-size blooms. Sleep shrouded eyes focused and looked to the boy. Ponderously, the massive canine rose into a slow luxurious stretch, grunted, and raised to his full impressive 35 inch height before shaking like he was trying to lose his skin. Ruhr... uhr... ruhr..., Corker roared. "Ruhr... ruhr ruhr ..." he repeated his happy greeting for his partner. Then, feathered tail swishing eagerly, he galumphed to the open gate, his enormous body shimmying to an unheard beat.

Throwing one leg back to brace his skinny frame, the boy smacked his narrow chest with the palms of his hands twice. So signaled, Corker leapt up and draped his bear-like paws over the boys thin shoulders.

Paddy O’Shaughnessy, at 16, finally gaining some height to 5’10, looked up at Corker’s massive head. To his friend’s obvious delight, Paddy scratched behind both long pendant ears. Corker reciprocated with slobbering tongue baths over the boy’s sweaty face. Now, burying his head in the dog’s thick neck, Paddy

Paddy O’ & Curly Slim 3

MURMURED, WHAT WOULD I do without you, buddy. Moments later, head painfully flaring from another rush of emotion, Paddy drew back, the palms of his hands grasping his forehead for hopeful relief. God help me, he muttered.

Corker dropped to all fours and gazed up quizzically. Lowering his hands, Paddy slapped his right thigh twice. Corker swung around, tightly abreast of the boy’s right leg. From the gravel driveway, they turned east into late morning eye-dazzling sunshine. Three doors away at 403 12 Mile Road, old man Vachon, pruning the green and yellow variegated Euonymus bushes in front of his porch, turned and smiled as he spied his two friends. Paddy had been mowing his lawn for two years. He and his gi-normous — as the boy would say with his made up words — canine sidekick would entertain the lonely widower with the unusual dog’s repertoire of tricks. As the duo came closer, Mr. Vachon’s face fell into a frown. Paddy looks like he’s got the burden of the world on his shoulders, he thought. No wonder with what’s happening at his house. Suddenly, a gust of wind ripped the wide-brim straw hat from his crew cut head and propelled it into the neighbor’s yard. Scampering to retrieve it, he missed Paddy’s croaky voice absently bade him, Good morning, Mr. Vachon.

At Main Street, with Corker loyally beside him, Paddy hesitated and glanced across 12 Mile to the G and P Market. He reminded himself to check if his

4 Richard Patton

LATEST ORDER OF CORKER’S favorite treat, Dog Yummies, had come in. Paddy used so many individual boxes of the little cube-size dry morsels Corker relished that he now ordered them by the case.

As though impatient to be on with it, after his confinement to the backyard, Corker thumped Paddy’s leg with his muscular body. It was one of many games they played with one another. The boy acknowledged the signal by bumping his right leg against the dog’s side behind his forelegs. A few paces beyond Main St. they entered Royal Oak Cemetery. The tidy, forested graveyard was one of the several places he had taken his buddy for exercise since he was a pup. Corker looked at the boy expectantly. Paddy flung his arm forward as though he was throwing a forward pass to a wide receiver. The giant dog sped off. The boy could have used the voice command Go! – one of a number of voice commands he had taught the canine along with corresponding hand signals – but his throat ached.

Blunt, black muzzle eagerly pointing the way, Corker ranged freely through the arbored landscape of towering Spruces and Oaks, Elms and Maples and their various cousins. Zig-zagging around weathered grave markers, he scared up a rabbit beneath a bush and rushed a surprised squirrel, its mouth stretched bulging with acorns. Corker was altogether giddy with delight, as a loose armada of shadows played tag with his scurrying figure. Now and then, he would hesitate and cast a wondering eye back at the boy. Then, satisfied

Paddy O’ & Curly Slim 5

HIS BUDDY WAS OKAY he would hurtle off once again in pleasureful abandon.

Leaning against the interior of the left-hand entrance column, Paddy grappled with his clamorous thoughts. They were ricocheting and caroming through his mind, turning him every which way but right, every bit as badly now as when his father had announced his shocking news to the family two weeks ago. The strong need to have order in his life — sometimes dificult to achieve but eventually successful – was eluding him on this September Saturday in 1952. He struggled for coherence. When it continued to evade him, he threw up his hands in disgust. For now, all he could settle on was that he had no idea how he had made it through the week at school and his two part-time jobs. It must have been rote or just plain dumb luck, he told himself miserably. Or, gazing heavenward, my guardian angel protecting me.

Suddenly, Corker raced up and skidded to a stop, spraying gravel on the boy. Crap, Paddy exploded, surprised. Playfully, Corker tugged at the cuff of his pants as the boy swiped with both hands at his white Tee-shirt and dungarees. Off balance, Paddy stumbled, then righted himself. Darn it, dum-........, the boy started to say dum-dum but cut himself short. Though exasperated by his own dilemma he could never be angry with his buddy. All he wanted was to include the boy in his happy play. Okay, okay, Big Guy. You got it. Off they sprinted. After running and wrestling for a time,

6 Richard Patton

PADDY, HIS BREATHS coming in short jerks, called a halt. He slapped his right thigh twice and Corker took the heel position. Companionably, they sauntered to the other side of the cemetery, Rochester Road, and across to the corner of Marlin Avenue. Rubbing dust from his eyes, he felt somehow free of the weight of the despairing thoughts that had been plaguing him earlier. At least for the moment.

Paddy surveyed Marlin Avenue, its huddled older frame houses bunched close to the sidewalk. It was a street on which he enjoyed delivering the Detroit Shopping News, an easy wrist-flip throw to the porches. But he had never had Corker by his side here. Today, there were people out everywhere – kids scampering and shrieking in games of tag; elementary age girls jumping between colored chalk spaces outlined on the sidewalk in games of Hopscotch; fathers raking leaves, lamenting the Detroit Tigers worst season in history and wondering if the coming season for the Lions would be their 17th consecutive missing the playoffs; mothers, clad in bright floral house dresses, chattering while keeping watchful eyes on their little ones; teenage boys, hands stained black from grease and oil, tinkering with hot rods raised on repair ramps in driveways. From somewhere nearby came the jaunty sounds of violinist, Florian Zabach’s rendition of the uptempo song Hot Canary. Along the block, at curb side, pillars of gray smoke spiraled skyward from mounds of scarlet and gold, orange and bronze leaves

Paddy O’ & Curly Slim 7

BURNING. IT WAS A MERRY autumnal celebration soon to give way to winter’s dreary, cold-numbing siege.

He noted, too, at least four dogs off leash — a Dalmatian, a Collie, a German Shepherd, and one large mix breed, a black and white long hair, badly in need of a bath and brushing.

He was tempted to detour one block north to12 Mile where there might be less activity but opted not to. He had seen the commotion caused by Corker’s humongous size and odd appearance before and gotten a kick out of it. Why not, he said to himself in his sometimes capricious way? I’m sick of feeling like crap. He looked over at Corker, sitting patiently at his side, and said, Alright, Bigger, let’s cause a stir and have some fun. Off they went, Paddy ambling nonchalantly, Corker, with his characteristic rolling gait, dutifully at his side

They were four houses along the street when two pre-teen girls playing jacks glanced their way. They did a double take and stared bug-eyed for a time; then, screaming, jumped up and ran into the nearest house. Paddy snickered. Moments later, two adults and a teenage boy burst out of the house with the girls pointing toward the odd canine. They stared in awe before joining neighbors who were now closely observing the dog and boy. About mid-block, the Collie and German Shepherd, situated across the street from one another, spotted the strolling twosome, sat down and quietly stared as a gust of wind stirred their coats.

8 Richard Patton

THEY MADE NO ATTEMPT to meet and sniff the strangers nor did they offer the slightest sound of complaint that their turf had been invaded by the visitors. They were either dumbstruck or awestruck or, more than likely — as Paddy had observed before in similar situations — both.

Nearby, the Dalmatian and mixed breed sat huddled together, in the same posture, not flinching a muscle. They, like the Collie and German Shepherd, looked on warily.

Paddy smiled as Corker, head held high, was strutting like a noble cock of the walk. Proud of his pal, Paddy couldn’t help but envy him, too. How he wished for similar size and respect. Yet, while he had finally grown a few inches over the summer, he was still a wiry, unprepossessing self-conscious kid whose peers would often call him names like "fream or odd ball" behind his back. If wishing made happen, he would be an awe-inspiring giant.

The catchy novelty song, Rag Mop by the Ames Brothers, was playing on a radio in a stripped down rod. The hit tune was suddenly interrupted with a marine weather alert. Lake St. Clair to the east and a wide area west and south of the lake were expected to be effected. Deep in his own thoughts, the boy missed the warning of severe weather coming from the southeast.

A gaggle of adults and children was congregating in the middle of the street, noisily curious about the pair. Several previous walks in strange neighborhoods

Paddy O’ & Curly Slim 9

HAD FOUND THE RESIDENTS similarly inquisitive but from a safe distance. Through it all Corker, ever mellow, stood protectively beside his pal. He gazed back at the curious and accepted their oohs and aahs, and questions with what Paddy knew was an expression of pleasure on his black face, highlighted by the dark pink of his broad forehead.

The press of the excited crowd instantly made Paddy edgy, as did facing any group of people or even a new situation would with his innate shyness. His pulse started to race and, in his stomach, he felt the beginning of butterflies. He glanced at Corker, wishing he could be as cool, calm and collected as the great canine. He was fearful he’d choke, again.

Cool it, he commanded himself. He didn’t want to be shot down as had often happened before. He hated being like this. Why did he always have to be so jumpy at first with people he didn’t know? His eyes nervously roved the crowd, knowing he would have to say something soon. His attention came to rest on a wisp of a girl – a head shorter than Corker – not two arm lengths in front of him. Her merry eyes bounced between he and Corker. Pixie face, framed by platinum blond curls, was absolutely aglow with the cutest smile he had ever seen. She radiated an unconditional acceptance, a welcome which enthralled the worried boy. Something inside made him feel that maybe everything was going to be okay if he focused on her as he spoke.

Drawn out of his potentially crippling reticence

10 Richard Patton

COUPLED WITH THE PEOPLE’S excitement, Paddy felt his discomfort ebb and saliva return to his cottony mouth. Hey, let me answer... one at a time, he said, over the buzz of many voices, the hint of a tremor in his voice seemingly unnoticed.

Laughing with him, several adults called out, C’mon, shush, let him talk. Further encouraged by the support, Paddy laid a steadying hand on Corker’s large rectangular head with the floppy long ears. He quickly thought of how he would answer and began, I’d like everyone to meet Corker...

Corker, what kinda name is that? suddenly interjected a young male voice from somewhere in the crowd.

Paddy fidgeted, his contemplated presentation interrupted. Cor...Corker is a word that means a remarkable person or thing, he answered, remembering the times he had heard Irish friends in his old Chicago neighborhood use the slang term to describe just about anything extraordinary that really impressed them. He is more stupendabulous — a Paddyism of the combination of the words stupendous and fabulous — than I could ever describe.

The same voice laughed. Yeah, that’s for sure! Okay, let him go on, a woman remarked.

Paddy took a deep breath and continued, keeping an eye on the little girl whose beguiling smile was dispelling his fears, silently encouraging him to continue. He’s only 195 pounds and 35 inches tall.....

Paddy O’ & Curly Slim 11

WOW! AND HOLY MACKEREL!, punctuated the air.

Whew, how much does he eat each day?

He eats me out of house and home, he does. That’s why I have two part-time jobs while going to school. Laughter broke out. Corker grunted with a noisy expulsion of gas. More laughter swelled then ebbed to soft murmurs.

What kind of breed is Corker?

"According to what I’ve read and my boss, Dr. Francisco’s exam, he’s part fluffy

American Mastiff and Irish Setter. He’s got the head and body of a Mastiff and the dangling ears and feathery tail of the Irish Setter. And, with his dark pink coat, what seems to be a color between the two. I call him a Mastetter."

Someone to his left said, Where do you get a big bruiser like that? He’d be a great watch dog...frighten a burglar right out of his pants.

Paddy hesitated, not wanting to spend the time right now on the gory details of how they came together and his parents resistance to keeping him. Corker stood and swayed his side into Paddy’s right leg, once and then a second time. Paddy, now anxious to cut out, answered with quick nudge back. He opted to fudge his answer so they could be gone. "One of Doc’s clients brought him in to be put down because he wasn’t a full blood. Didn’t make any difference to me if he was AKC

12 Richard Patton

REGISTERED OR JUST a common ole dog. He’s been the best buddy a guy could ever have. Look, good talking but we better get going."

Thankfully, the people started to stray away, sharing their amazement at the mammoth canine, some glancing back over their shoulders, nodding and commenting in wonderment. Paddy and Corker were about to walk off when he found himself alone with the little girl. She stood rooted to the same spot, casting her magical brilliance between them. The tiny angel, as he now thought of her, had saved him from his own difidence and painful embarrassment. He owed her, now more than she could ever understand.

Thank you, pretty little lady, Paddy said. He knew she wouldn’t understand the reason for his appreciation but he felt compelled to convey it to her anyway. Returning her smile, he squatted down in front of her, with Corker snifing the air around them. Would you like to pet this big ole softy?

Her rosebud mouth scrunched in determination and, for a brief moment, her head bobbed vigorously. She stepped closer and laid her hand on top of Corker’s head, her beaming smile a benediction of the sweetest nature. Deep from within Corker came a low sound of contented pleasure, much like that of feline purring.

Enthralled by the rapturous moment, Paddy watched them a long moment before saying, He likes the backs of his ears scratched.

Giggling, the little girl extended her tiny hands

Paddy O’ & Curly Slim 13

AND SCRATCHED BEHIND both ears. Corker leaned into her hands, this way and that, cooing with pleasure. Short moments later, the girl threw her arms around the canine’s thick neck, hugged him with a big squeeze; then, grinning gleefully, parted and ran off to a nearby house. Mommy! Mommy! I hugged the big giant. And he kissed me.

Moments later, as the twosome turned off Fern St. onto 12 Mile headed east again, Paddy asked himself: Why, oh why the heck couldn’t you have done as well in Mr. Monte’s Speech class last year as you did back there? One of his speeches had been a total disaster. He had wanted to earn at least a B grade to maintain his high GPA. But he settled for the C grade he was given, questioning to himself whether he deserved even that. The painful anguish of that experience had left him in a blue funk for what seemed forever. Now, his mercurial mind somehow had to relive the debacle.

After a sleepless night fighting a severe case of nerves, the next morning, in third period, his fear of public speaking had escalated. Rattled by sweat racing down his sides like rain drops hurtling down a wet window pane, and trying without success to stimulate even a little moisture in his dry mouth, he couldn’t remember the material he had rehearsed to distraction. He had stood there, before the class, body trembling, face bright red, trying desperately to will his mouth to work, to say something. But painfully nothing. He glanced at Mr. Monte. The teacher gave him a

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COMMISERATIVE LOOK and an almost imperceptible nod toward his desk. Taking this as a welcome release from his agony Paddy found himself slouching back to his desk amid the sniggers and titters of several classmates. Worse still was the silent whipping he gave himself as he huddled down half listening to the smooth, confident presentations of four of his peers.

Now, looking back, he recalled cute Judy Rattner had been sitting in the back row of the class then. He wondered why he hadn’t focused on her ready and generous smile. That, he wanted to believe, could have been what he needed to overcome his fears just like the welcoming smile of and concentrating on the toddler did a few minutes ago.

They continued on – Paddy carried along by the demands of his tangled thoughts, and desire to flee the gloom of home; Corker the happy-go-lucky explorer. Both were oblivious to the unfamiliar surroundings, beyond the convenient shelter of businesses and homes.

15

Chapter 2

The wind, earlier a cooling breeze with intermittent gusts, had risen. Overhead, dense clouds, blotting the brilliant sun and cerulean sky, rocketed westward. Paddy glanced to the southeast. Some distance out a black wall of clouds