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"Uh-huh," Christie said obediently.
"I'm really much older than you are, but I don't mind playing with you to teach you things," Fern continued in a very grown-up-sounding voice. The tone of it surprised even me. In fact, I thought she was doing a rather good imitation of Clayton Osborne.
"Now," she continued, "you can ask me any questions you want, questions about anything. Even," she said, lowering her voice a bit, "questions about boys. You know why boys are different, don't you?
"No, you don't," Fern added quickly. "You're nodding, but I can see in your face that you don't. Well, I will tell you," she said.
I entered the room and cleared my throat to get her attention, but when Fern looked up at me I saw the oddest glint in her eyes. They were bright with frustration and anger. She looked just like an adult who was furious she had been interrupted. After a moment, though, the ire left her eyes, and her face softened into a smile.
"Hi, Dawn," she said.
"Fern, dear, may I speak with you a moment?" I said. I took her out in the corridor. She stared up at me, a look of innocence and confusion on her face. "I couldn't help but overhear some of the things you were saying to Christie as I was walking by," I said. Then I shook my head. "She's much too young to learn about the birds and the bees." I smiled. "She's not quite six yet."
"I knew all that stuff when I was her age," Fern snapped back. "Clayton made sure I did."
"Well, things are different here, Fern, dear. There is no Clayton. Christie has time to learn about sex. We've got to let her be a little girl first, okay? I know you want only to be a nice aunt to her, but—"
"Clayton used to do that, too," she said quickly, glaring at me.
"Do what, honey?"
"Spy on me whenever I had friends over," she said accusingly.
"I wasn't spying on you, Fern. I was just passing by and—"
"It's the same thing," she said. "If two people are having a private conversation in a room, another person is not supposed to stand by the door and listen," she lectured. I felt myself grow crimson.
"I'm sorry if you felt spied upon, Fern, but Christie is my daughter, and I must be concerned about everything she does, sees and hears. Now please don't bring up that subject with her again, okay? When the time comes you can be a great help to her. You're a very mature young lady, and—"
"Okay," she said. "We'll just do baby talk. I'm tired anyway," she added. "I'm going to go to bed and read and go to sleep. Am I excused?"
"Yes, honey. Good night."
"Good night," she said, and she sauntered off.
"Where's Aunt Fern?" Christie cried when I looked in on her again.
"She was tired and went to bed, sweetheart. You should think about getting ready for bed, too."
"But we were playing a ga
me . . school. She was the teacher and I was the pupil," she protested.
"You can play again tomorrow."
Christie gave me one of her furious little looks and reluctantly marched to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Afterward, when I went downstairs, I told Jimmy what I had overheard Fern telling Christie and about my conversation with her. He was sitting in the big cushioned armchair and reading one of his car magazines.
"She was very put out that I chastised her," I added. He shook his head and lowered his magazine.
"Poor kid," he said. "All those years of abuse must have done some terrible damage."
"Maybe we should arrange for her to see someone, Jimmy. Perhaps a child psychologist," I suggested.
"I don't think so," he said. "I think her just living in a normal world with people who love her and care about her will heal her. After a while all that other stuff will fade away, I'm sure."
"I don't know, Jimmy. According to what she tells us, she's suffered for years and years. That's not forgotten overnight or even after months. And I'm just afraid that Christie . . ."
"What?" he said, snapping the pages of his magazine. "Don't tell me you think my sister is going to corrupt Christie." Jimmy's eyes were the same bright coal color Fern's had been.
