Advanact's
Robert's Reformation
Robert's Reformation
Prologue
Rob sighed in depression as he waved goodbye. “Why does it always have to end up this way?” he muttered. “Every single year, the same thing...”
Simpering vacantly, the young man scowled inside. “Every time they go on a trip, every time they take off for a vacation, they leave me in the care of some relative or babysitter. I’m 18, for pete’s sake! I should be left to take care of myself!” Feeling a soft arm clasp about his shoulder, the lad looked to his right to see the smiling face of Mrs. Johnston – his babysitter.
“Well,” she chimed, “there they go! Off to Wisconsin for the summer. I guess that just leaves the two of us for the next 10 week, hmm sport?”
Pouting against the lad’s obvious dissatisfaction, the matronly lady cooed, “Aw, don’t be sad. We’ll have lots of fun together, you’ll see!”
“But I’m too old for a babysitter...” grumbled Rob.
Crossing her jovial face with a frown, Mrs. Johnston replied “Well, I agree with that statement. But with the way you’ve been acting lately, can you blame your parents for not wanting to leave you alone?”
Embarrassed at the reminder, Rob looked away. Sure, he’d been acting up a bit in the past year, but what could you expect! In this small town, there wasn’t much to do aside from vandalism and a little shoplifting here and there. Although the police chewed him out something fierce the last time they caught him breaking windows on Main Street, he knew that inside they really understood him. Who wouldn’t be a hellion in a boring old place like this?
Still, he was an adult now, and could have been put in a detention facility for a few months because of his actions. The alternative, constant parental supervision, wasn’t much better – but at least it would keep his record clean for school in the Fall. Unfortunately, with his parents leaving for vacation, and not wanting to bring along their difficult son, that left him with the neighbourhood ‘witch’.
“C’mon,” chuckled Mrs. Johnston, as she gave the lad a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Let’s go inside and get some lunch, I’m starving!”
Turning to follow, Rob thought back on his years in Bakersville and reflected on his memory of this mysterious woman.
Chapter 1
Mrs. Johnston was always a favourite of the neighbourhood kids. She was the kind of lady who would always be on hand to mend a scraped knee, provide lemonade at the end of a game of baseball and generally just be a great neighbourhood ‘mom’. Although she had no children herself, Martha Johnston seemed to have decided years ago to adopt the entire city, and so did her best to look after everyone – young and old alike. A frequent volunteer for most every event, Mrs. Johnston’s jovial disposition made even the most miserable work a pleasurable occasion.
“Now,” thought Rob, as he strode back towards the kitchen. “Why did we start to think of her as a ‘witch’?” Grinning as he remembered the foolishness of childhood, Rob recalled that children tend to demonize anything that’s different, and Mrs. Johnston was no exception.
Friendly as she was, the jovial matron stood in start contrast to most of the moody townsfolk around her. Living alone in a large, isolated house with no visible means of financial support, the children began to speculate as to her true identity and reason for her actions.
“She’s a witch, I tell ya!” squealed one kid from deep in Robert’s memory. “Why else would she be so nice? She’s hiding something, I KNOW it! An’ some day you’ll all be sorry you didn’t believe me!”
“Right,” laughed another, as the kids dismissed the accusation. “She’s a witch and will turn us all into frogs with her poison lemonade, right? You goof! Do you REALLY think a witch would be as nice as Mrs. Johnston? Where are the warts, huh?”
“I tell ya...” the boy rebutted, but his protests were drowned out in childish laughter as the other kids ran off for another game of baseball. Still, even though the kids never really thought that Martha Johnston was a witch, they’d occasionally make a joke of it and refer to her as ‘that witch in the big old house’. Since every group of neighbourhood kids needed a ‘spooky old lady’ to joke about, why shouldn’t they have made theirs the friendly Mrs. Johnston?
It was on these memories that Robert reflected as he followed the middle-aged woman back into her kitchen. A witch? How could he have ever thought of that, even jokingly? No one else was about to take him in for the summer -- even for thousands of dollars of babysitters fees – which would have left him visiting the local prison for a few months. Yet, Mrs. Johnston gladly accepted Rob’s summer supervision without taking even a single dollar from his parents.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” asked Rob’s mother. “He is a little difficult at times, and you do live by yourself...”
“Nonsense,” chuckled Mrs. Johnston, as she dismissed their concerns with a wave of her hand. “It will be a pleasure to have Robert as a visitor this summer. Besides, I think he’ll appreciate the company as well.”
His mother continued, “But can’t we provide you with even a little pay? Just something to cover expenses?”
“Not at all,” said the matron, as she looked over to the young man. “It will be pleasure enough spending time with this gentleman and providing him with a little direction.
“You’ll see,” grinned the kindly lady. “When you return in the Fall, he’ll be a changed man. I promise!”
Warily eyeing her son, Mrs. Parker agreed and went ahead with the supervision plan, hoping against hope that this woman’s promise could come true. They had tried everything – psychologists, rehabilitation, attention-deficit drugs -- and yet it still seemed as though Rob’s boyishly destructive ways would remain a part of him forever. Warmly hugging Mrs. Johnston in thanks, Robert’s mother bid her son a kindly – if distant -- farewell and joined her husband in the car as they left for their months-long retreat.
The clang of a soup pot brought the distracted young man back to reality.
“Well,” thought Rob. “This won’t be too bad.
“Mrs. Johnston is still a nice woman, and kinda pretty, too...” glancing sidelong at his babysitter, as she prepared a soup for their sandwiches, Rob noted that middle age had been treating Mrs. Johnston rather well. Indeed, the matron still looked as she always had: an ageless woman – you’d claim not a day over 35 – whose 6 feet of height easily balanced her pleasantly plump frame. Grinning in remembrance, Rob recalled how he loved to be hugged to her ample bosom as a child. Sitting on her lap, consoled after a painful scrape or bad day at school, Mrs. Johnston would lay her hand upon the boy’s head and press it gently into the enveloping softness of her pillowy breasts. Within her affectionate embrace, all problems would fade until it seemed he was just a baby once more – care free and unconditionally loved by this wonderfully pleasant lady.
Snapping out of his reverie -- yet again -- as Mrs. Johnston placed lunch before him, a glance at her jiggling bosom made Rob painfully aware that he was no longer a child – he was an adult, in an adult’s world, and facing adult punishments for his childish behaviour. Lifting his spoon to stir his soup, even the nearness of Mrs. Johnston couldn’t dismiss his worries as Rob wondered what was to become of him.
“My life’s such a mess,” muttered the young man.
Overhearing the remark, Mrs. Johnston only smiled.