Jackson Robard

The cub-scout mother

CHAPTER ONE

The late afternoon sun was low and sinking fast behind the shopping center, leaving a spray of glowing color in streaks across the luminous sky. Bette Jean lagged behind the hurrying bag boy and turned to look at the coral streaks. Brilliant wavy flags billowing across the sky like gossamer silk. She stood for a moment, warmed by the color despite the nip in the air. At last she turned and followed obediently to the rear of the pale blue station wagon where the boy was loading her groceries.

"There you are, Mrs. Lyons," he said panting, then slammed the rear door and turned to her grinning. "All loaded up and ready to go."

"Thank you so much." Bette Jean pressed a coin into his hard young palm. The tall youth blushed in confusion and tried to put the money back in her hand.

"Aw… no… you don't have to do that. It's a pleasure to load your groceries and stuff… I mean… well… I like doing it for you…"

Bette Jean insisted and in the fumbling he held her hand far too long, blushing and embarrassed. She felt a tiny little thrill chase up her forearm from the contact and then she too was embarrassed. Oh dear. The boy wasn't much older than her son, Gary. A stab of fear shot through her then. Would Gary start acting like men always acted around women? He was sixteen now but she didn't want him to start acting like a snorting bull in a china shop. "Thank you again… sorry to be so much trouble…" Bette Jean almost whispered in confusion and slid into the driver's seat quickly, slamming the door behind her. The bag boy grinned and waved, wheeling the cart back toward the supermarket.

Driving home Bette Jean tried to sort her thoughts. It had been a difficult day. The doctor still hadn't been too sure about her symptoms. Mostly he'd patted her and reassured her… and now that she thought about it, grinned at her just the way that grocery boy had done. But then men had always grinned at her fatuously ever since she was fourteen. If he had a few beers too many, even Lester, her own husband, grinned at her that way.

It had something to do with her being small and having curling chestnut hair and large innocent blue eyes. Every male in sight thought he had to protect her. Well, the only thing she wanted protection from now was male attention. It was time they left her alone. Certainly it was past time for Lester to leave her alone.

At his age and hers… with the children all gone from home now except Gary… it was almost indecent the way Lester wouldn't leave her alone. Though she couldn't prove it, Bette Jean thought that surely must have something to do with all her headaches and fatigue lately. Couldn't Lester see that she was too old for all that nonsense? At forty after four children she was just plain tired of sex. It was dull and useless and ridiculous.

Bette Jean shook her chestnut curls out of her eyes and her mouth straightened in a line of determination. The doctor hadn't actually said she was not to sleep with Lester… but he had asked a lot of questions about her sex life… wanting to know how often and if she had orgasms… and he had said she was not to overdo. Well, that was enough. She'd been trying for a long time to find a way to have separate bedrooms. Not that she wanted to hurt Lester's feelings but she had her health to think of too. Certainly he couldn't willingly want her to get worse.

By the time she'd put all the groceries away and folded the brown paper bags neatly out of sight, Bette Jean was exhausted. It was familiar exhaustion she experienced often these days and had gone to several doctors about. They hadn't actually laughed at her but they hadn't taken her problem seriously either. At least Dr. Madson had given her those pills and told her not to work so hard. He was better than the rest of those quacks. They just didn't understand female problems. How could they? They'd never been females.