”“It’s not,” she said, her arms around herself, still facing away from me. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it.”“Shelby, I.....”“I don’t want to bawl all afternoon, Jacob,” she said quietly. “Let’s get together another time and maybe we can talk more?”“My Sundays are my own,” I gave the best smile I could.“Call me,” she said, turning to me. “I’m not sure I can talk about this on the phone yet, but don’t you disappear on me.”“I would never do that,” I shook my head at her.“I know,” she. The dark option winning easily, wishful thinking on the middle option was the stuff of pipedreams or more likely wet dreams for a boy my age. I had no idea what age the lady of the house might be but had previously surmised that as the daughter was at least ten years older than me, she would have to be in her early to mid-forties at least? By now my eyes were growing more accustomed to the light and I could now make out the shape of her as she lay on top of the bed, propped up on a couple of. More

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