Chapter 4

Before the fishing fleet had even cleared the horizon on the following Monday, Bobby Beldon hopped in his car and headed for town, several glorious days of idleness ahead of him. He was proud of his wheels: a '62 Buick Skylark convertible, cherry apple red, with hardly any rust on the chassis. Bobby had started saving for his first car when he began delivering newspapers at age 9, and the past two summers on the boat had finally given him enough to secure his longed-for independence. Bobby loved his car. It ran like a watch and was a reliable chick magnet with a conveniently large back seat.

Cruising with the top down on the main street of Cedar Cove, on his way to nowhere in particular, Bobby was feeling good. Ahead on his right he saw a familiar figure walking – sashaying, actually – down the sidewalk. She was wearing jeans and a halter top and sneakers, and her hair was in a high ponytail. With the pinpoint focus of a Navy gunner zeroed in on his prey, he guided the Belvedere closer to the side of the road. He followed just behind her for a few yards. Then he unleashed his signature move, gunning his engine and racing ahead, then screeching to a halt half a block further down. He was idling, looking cool, when Peggy Callaghan caught up with him.

"Hey," he said casually.

"Hello." Her voice was cool, and she didn't stop walking.

Bobby stepped on the gas slightly, following alongside her. She quickened her pace, pointedly not looking at the boy in the car next to her.

"Want a ride?"

"No, thank you. I'm not going that far."

Bobby grinned. "Whatsa matter? Scared to ride alone in a car with a boy?"

She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. He tapped the brake.

"I'm not afraid. I'm just not very interested in fast cars." She shrugged and tossed her ponytail emphatically as she turned and entered the nearest shop.

Scowling, Bobby drove back home and parked the Skylark in the driveway. He kicked the front tire on his way into the house.

The first beach party was the unofficial start of summer, something Bobby looked forward to every year. At dusk on Friday, the teenagers started congregating on a less-public stretch of shoreline, coolers in tow. By 10:30, when Bobby made his grand entrance, things were starting to swing. There were little knots of teens clustered round a big bonfire, pop bottles and beer cans in hand. Somebody had brought a transistor radio, of course, and plenty of kids were dancing in the light of the flickering fire. Peggy was there with Laurie. She stood near the fire, sipping on a bottle of 7-Up. She wore a white mini-dress and had a pink sweater of some soft material draped over her shoulders. Watching from a distance, Bobby wondered what that pink softness would feel like under his fingertips. He wondered how her hair smelled. He wondered what made her laugh and smile and if she'd ever been kissed.

He wondered why he was having such a lousy time at the first party of the year.

Dean sidled up to him and handed him a long neck to replace his empty can. "You're looking a little glum, chief," he commented.

Bobby shrugged. "Not in the mood, I guess." Across the fire, Linda was giving him the eye. He returned a half-hearted smile.

"So what happened to your plan to make the new girl, Peggy Callaghan?" Dean goaded.

His companion's expression darkened. He took a long draw on his beer. "Aw, she's untouchable. I think she's going to be a nun or something."

"Oh, yeah? I'm surprised to hear that. She went out with Lenny last week. He said they had a real good time." For some reason, the knowing smirk that accompanied Dean's words made Bobby want to punch him in the face.

"Lenny's blowin' smoke out his ass. Peggy Callaghan isn't that kind of girl," he said hotly, even though he really had no idea what kind of girl Peggy was, and it didn't seem likely he ever would.

"Whatever you say, man. I'm just reporting the news." Perhaps sensing his friend's growing simmer, Dean drifted over to another gang of kids, leaving Bobby to sulk alone. He saw Mike Simmons approach Peggy and say something to her. She smiled and followed him onto the makeshift "dance floor." She was good dancer, her young body swaying sinuously to the beat of "Girl, Beautiful Girl" by The Lovin' Spoonful. Bobby went and got another beer.

Peggy Callaghan danced a lot that night, but not with Bobby Beldon. Eventually Linda Thomas pulled him into the mob of gyrating dancers, but he was already three sheets to the wind by then, and pretty sloppy on his feet. When "Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon" came on and the couples moved together for a slow dance/grope session, Linda draped her arms around his neck and his big hands found her backside. Through bleary eyes he saw that Peggy was apparently sitting this one out; she was nowhere to be seen among the overheated bodies on the sand. He wondered if she was off somewhere with Lenny, or Mike. When Linda tried to draw him into the shadows for more serious petting, he waved her off and stumbled over to the beer cooler.

Some time later, Bobby Beldon found himself on his knees, retching into a clump of weeds. He prided himself on his ability to hold his liquor – his Dad had handed him his first beer at 14, declaring it would put hair on his chest – but he'd gone well over his limit this night. His stomach empty, he half-staggered, half-crawled out of the weeds and lay flat on the sand. Around him, the party was beginning to disperse. He heard muffled voices: Dean and his girlfriend Sandy, Joe, a few others he didn't recognize. Then, from somewhere close by, one voice stood out. "He can't drive home like this."

It was Peggy Callaghan, and her voice was surprisingly concerned. Bobby turned his face into the sand, sick with shame to have her see him like this. Joe's laugh barked over his prone body. "Nah, he'll sleep it off here on the beach. I've got his keys, just in case he comes to." That was the last sound Bobby heard before darkness closed over him. His last thought before he passed out was that this was shaping up to be the worst summer of his life.

A few hours later, as dawn was breaking, Bobby Beldon woke up on the beach with a screaming headache, a mouthful of sand and a soft, warm, pink sweater laying over him.

Bobby was scarce around Cedar Cove the next couple of weeks – in part because the boats were back and he was working, but mostly because he was afraid he might run into Peggy Callaghan. He couldn't face her. She surely thought he was the biggest dope in the world. She must despise him. She and Lenny were probably going steady by now. His Dad had plenty of money; she'd probably marry Lenny and live happily ever after in a big house in Orchard Bay. Good for her.

But … there was the sweater.

He'd folded it up carefully and tucked it in the glove compartment of the Skylark. He'd have to get it back to her somehow. Maybe he could send it in the mail. Or ask Lenny to give it to her.

Hell would freeze over first.

Bobby worried over it through a long, long shift on the boat. When he got home, dog-tired, he jumped in the shower. Afterwards he slipped into jeans and his favorite paisley shirt and drove to the Piper house. He parked across the street, then carefully removed the sweater from the glove compartment and carried it to the front gate. There he stopped. It occurred to him to hang the sweater on one of the white pickets and run away. But it looked like it might rain; he didn't want the sweater to get ruined. His hand shaking a little, he opened the gate and stepped into the yard. He stopped again.

There were lights on in the house, but no movement that he could see. He took a step toward the house. Another one. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweating. This was no good. He couldn't face her like this. Get ahold of yourself, boy, he growled internally.

A glider swing was placed about halfway between the street and the house, just off the sidewalk. Bobby made his way to it and sat down. He'd just sit a minute and gather his courage.

He sat a minute. Two minutes. Half an hour. The sun had set by now, and he found himself sitting stock-still in the deepening shadows like some oversized garden gnome. Another 10 minutes and it would be completely dark. Then he could sneak up to the porch, set the sweater on one of the Adirondack chairs and bolt for his car. This was a good plan.

Just then he heard the creak of a screen door. Peggy Callaghan appeared in the glow of the porch light, a bottle of Coca Cola in each hand. He watched her come down off the porch and walk over to him. A smile of puzzled amusement was on her face.

"Bobby Beldon, just how long were you planning to sit out here?" she asked, handing him the Coke.

"Uh … I … I brought back your sweater," he stammered. He held the garment up in his free hand, knowing he looked and sounded like an idiot.

She laughed, a sweet, joyous sound that made Bobby Beldon's heart melt into his shoes. "Thanks," she said, taking it and sitting down next to him. "It's Laurie's. She hasn't spoken to me since I came home without it."

Bobby took a tentative sip of cola. "Thanks for letting me … er … borrow it."

"Looked like you needed it."

"What I really needed was a good, swift kick," Bobby said sheepishly. "I made an ass of myself."

A little laugh again. "I expect you paid for it the next morning." She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. "But I'll keep that kicking part in mind for next time."

Bobby grinned, then chuckled, then grinned again. "Okay." Suddenly shy, he looked down at his hands. "You're a hard girl to impress, Miss Callaghan."

"Maybe you don't need to try so hard, Mr. Beldon."

She was sitting so close to him, he could smell her light floral perfume and feel the warmth of her body next to his. Her face was turned toward him, a sweet smile on her lips. In his whole life, Bobby had never wanted anything more than he wanted to kiss this girl at that very moment.

And so he did.