Ha'penny Jenny

by Dani Haviland

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  Jenny looked out and saw that now Grannie had come out and was talking to Grandpa Jody. His back was turned away, and it looked as if he was going to kiss Grannie again. Good! Grannie sometimes made little noises—kind of like a kitten—when he kissed her. Hopefully she would this time. Then he wouldn’t hear her open the door and run to the house.

  Jenny saw her grandparents were almost—no, wait, now they were—kissing. She stepped down off the privy seat and opened the door. She took two steps away and listened. Yes, they were still smooching. They sure liked to kiss a lot. She picked up her feet and walked on her tiptoes, being careful not to make any noise.

  Just to make sure she made it to the house before they stopped kissing, she ran the last ten yards, almost stepping on the garden hoe she had forgotten to put away. Phew! Daddy was right! Someone could get hurt if the tools were left out. She’d put it away, but later, probably tomorrow. Right now, she needed to go inside and be with her babies and Mommy and Daddy.

  The front door was open, but there was a blanket tacked across the middle part of the doorframe. Mommy said the cool air could come in at the bottom, and the hot air could go out the top if they hung the blanket up like that. She didn’t like to sleep with the door open, but it had been too hot to bolt it shut. A big animal would make a lot of noise trying to come in, but she said it would stop if it couldn’t see past the blanket. Wild critters didn’t like going into the unknown.

  Jenny got on her hands and knees so she could crawl under the blanket without knocking it down. Then she heard that noise. It didn’t sound right. Mommy sounded like she was hurting. She was saying ‘Oh, oh, oh, oh.’ And Daddy was making noises, too. But she knew that noise. Kind of. It sounded like her brothers when they used to play rooster. They always made her leave, or at least cover her head with a blanket, when they did that.

  Jenny cautiously threaded her neck under the quilt and saw Daddy on top of Mommy. He didn’t have on any clothes and neither did she. She quickly crawled back out onto the porch, stood up, and tiptoed back toward the barn. Now she knew why they wanted to be alone. They wanted to play their own game.

  “I’m okay, now,” she said dejectedly as she walked up to Grandpa. He had been walking toward the privy and met her halfway.

  She was sure glad she hadn’t taken the shortcut back. She had fooled him—he thought that she had been in there the whole time with a bellyache. She didn’t like lying to him, but she had to make sure that Mommy, Daddy, and the babies were all right.

  Why didn’t they just tell her that they wanted to play by themselves? She would have understood. She rolled over on top of her quilt and thought about it again. No, she would have wanted to play with them, too. But if they had just told her that they were going to play rooster, she knew she would have left them alone. She didn’t like that game.

  5 The Game of Rooster

  Jody hadn’t say anything when Jenny came back to the barn, but he could tell something had happened. She must have slipped out of the privy while he was talking to Sarah. How could he have let her get past him? He snorted. He knew how, but didn’t want to admit to himself that he had been so engrossed in the little sexual fantasy he and Sarah were sharing—and the kiss that lasted longer than most—that Jenny had escaped the toilet and sneaked back to the house. Hopefully she hadn’t see anything, but came back because she saw that nothing was going on. Hopefully, but not likely.

  He had to let Wallace and Evie know that they may have had an audience last night. He should probably tell them both. It would be easier to only tell Wallace, but Evie was the one who would wind up with the chore of explaining what Jenny possibly—rather, probably—had seen.

  No one knew Jenny’s age, but she was old enough to know the facts of life. At least, according to Sarah she was. He had to agree with her on that one. The discomfort of giving and receiving last minute wedding night explanations that he—and then later, his son—had to go through was enough to make him swallow his conservative views on what a lad or lass should know at such an early age. It would be much easier on everyone down the road if when the time came for marriage, the newlywed had received at least a preliminary talk as a child.

  Jody stomped his feet as he walked up the steps to the house, the heavy footfalls announcing his arrival. The quilt had been taken down, and the sounds and smells of a full-fare breakfast came tumbling down the boards. Hopefully, Evie had made enough for everyone, he thought, then realized how selfish he was. His stomach overrode the guilt of his covetous desire, though, and roared with greed. It didn’t care if it was intruding on a wedding breakfast or not. The smell of bacon and coffee would rouse anyone’s appetite.

  Wallace had Leo over his shoulder and was rubbing his back. It looked as if he had just been fed and Daddy was burping him while Mommy was turning the bacon.

  “I know, I know, I should be cooking outside, but I didn’t want to go through the bother, and it’s still early enough that the heat will dissipate,” I rationalized. “Besides, I love the way it makes the house smell for the rest of the day. And I made enough for everyone, so you’d better not be mad at me, or I’ll eat your share.” I walked up to Jody and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. The previous night’s excitement hadn’t totally worn off, and I was still perky.

  I pulled back and noticed that Jody was wincing as if either his collar or his shoelaces were too tight. Since he had neither, I asked, “What’s wrong?” Wallace had noticed his grimace, too, and was concerned, asking with his scowl to, yes, please explain.

  “I…um…think I may have failed in my task last night,” Jody said. “Jenny may have sneaked over here when it was late. Ye see, she said she had a knot in her wame, and I waited fer her by the privy fer quite a while, and then I got a bit distracted…” Jody didn’t know what else to say, but knew he had to try. “I dinna ask her if she came by, and she dinna offer an explanation. It was the frown she wore. She seemed what ye call mopey. I think maybe ye need to have the talk with the lass, Evie.”

  Jody hung his head in shame, let out a big sigh, then lifted his face and said, “Wallace, both of ye, I…I am so sorry.”

  I looked at Wallace and shrugged. “Well, if she did see something, then I can explain it. That means that maybe,” I stressed with exaggerated exasperation, “we can have a life like the Indians do where having sex—making love—can be considered a natural part of life and not something to be hidden.”

  Wallace and Jody’s heads snapped up, shocked at my words, but quickly returned to normal. I could tell they were both relieved. Well, at least the part where I said I’d do the investigating and explaining.

  So, it turned out that all of us ate our big breakfast on the porch, the men sitting on the steps, the babies in their playpen snuggled under a light blanket, and the womenfolk sitting on chairs or benches, all of us with plates of bacon, scrambled eggs, and coffee cake balanced on our laps.

  I could tell Jenny was uneasy, her head down, and nothing but a, “Yes, please,” or, “No, thank you,” escaping her tight lips. She had definitely seen something the night before. We could all see her reserve, but we certainly weren’t going to address it at the family breakfast.

  When we were done, Sarah and Jody offered to take care of the dirty dishes. Wallace looked as if he was going to say he’d help, also, but realized it would be too crowded with all three of them inside at the same time. Instead, he excused himself to the garden. “I think I’ll go see how the corn is coming along. It shouldn’t be too much longer and those first four rows will be ready. I’ve never heard of planting it in stages, but Evie was right. That small, early planting was a gamble, but we’ll have roasted corn before anyone else.”

  That left me with two on-site caregivers for the babies, and the opportunity for a discreet facts of life talk. “Jenny, let’s go for a little walk,” I said. “I found some raspberries, and I want you to come with me and see if they’re getting ripe.”

  “I think the raspberries are al
ready gone—the birds got them all,” she said dejectedly. She saw my eyes shift, side-to-side, and knew that I didn’t want to talk about raspberries. “But I’ll go with you if you want me to,” she sang out happily. She didn’t have a clue about the reason for the walk, but the fact that she was going to get Mommy to herself for a few minutes didn’t need an excuse.

  I knew we didn’t have much time. The babies still needed to be fed every couple of hours. Since I was their only source of nourishment, I couldn’t be gone for too long or stray too far away. I had to cut to the chase and get the conversation started, figured out, and finalized as quickly as possible. But I also had to be both gentle and thorough.

  “Jenny, did you leave the barn last night and come back to the house?” I wasn’t looking her in the eye, but she was a lousy liar. I was glad of that and hoped she never learned.

  “Yes, ma’am, I went to the privy,” she replied with a half-truth. She also didn’t know how to bluff.

  “I didn’t ask if you went to the privy. Did you come to the house?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she answered softly, chin-to-chest, embarrassed that she had been caught.

  I wanted to jump all over her for not doing as she was told, but because of the delicacy of the situation—at least, on the part that she may have seen me, her parent, engaged in sexual intercourse—I didn’t want to put her on report. I bit off the ‘why didn’t you do as you were told!’ scolding and instead asked, “What did you see?”

  Jenny didn’t answer immediately, but instead went to the raspberry bush that was picked clean of fruit. “See,” she said, “the birds ate them all before we got here. If I’d lived here with you back when they were ripe, I’d ‘a made sure I got them all before the birds did.” She looked back at me with a smile of pride at her declaration of devotion to help provide food for her family. It faded quickly when she saw that I was still waiting for the answer to my question.

  “I saw you and Daddy playing rooster,” she said flatly. Then she turned the tables on me and asked accusingly, “Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to play rooster? I woulda understood and covered my head or stayed out in the barn with Grannie and Grandpa Jody. Really, I would have.”

  What could I say? “Rooster?” was all that escaped my lips.

  “Yeah,” she said slowly, “at least that’s what I called it when my brothers—my other brothers, the ones that are up in heaven—used to play it. They said that I couldn’t watch, and that I would have to go outside. Except in the winter when it was too cold, then they said that I could just cover my head with a blanket.”

  I shook my head, but didn’t know what to say. She looked at me to make sure I knew what she was talking about, and then noticed that I didn’t have a clue. She assumed the Mommy role and started her explanation to me—the dumbfounded child in the conversation.

  “Clyde and Clayton,” she said with assurance—I think she had finally decided that it was easier to call them by their given names rather than explain which brothers they were. “Well,” she began anew, not sure of how to tell me, “they liked to, well, get happy together.”

  She looked at me and saw that I was starting to understand, at least a little. “Well, I…um…saw them playin’ it outside once, and they said that I couldn’t sneak up on them like that anymore. I guess they did it all the time, but they said I couldn’t play it with them because I was just a girl. But, then after our daddy died, that’s our first daddy…”

  She looked at me and saw me frown. She realized that I knew who she was talking about, so resumed. “Anyway, they said that they could play by themselves inside now since he was gone, but that I had to cover my head when they did because it wasn’t for little kids or babies. Actually, they always called me a baby, and it made me mad because I really wasn’t a baby…”

  I gave her the ‘look’ and she stopped babbling about being called a baby. “So, they’d tell me to cover my head every once in a while at night, and then they’d make happy noises, and then one of them would ‘ooh ooh ooh rah ooh!’ like a rooster, so I called it the rooster game.”

  I breathed a deep sigh of relief. She saw that I felt better and came over and gave me a big hug around my hips. “Mommy, it’s okay if you and Daddy play rooster. I’ll cover my head, but please, don’t make me sleep outside. I liked being with Grannie and Grandpa Jody, but I felt like you didn’t love me anymore and didn’t want me around.”

  “Oh, honey,” I cooed, and bent down to wrap my arms around her shoulders. “I will always love you, and do want you around, but…” I cleared my throat and said a quick prayer for inspiration. She looked up at me, knowing that she would hear something profound. “God made mommies and daddies, and gave them gifts to share with each other. And,” I shook my head rapidly, trying to Etch-a-Sketch erase the image of Clyde and Clayton joined with anyone, “it is not a game called rooster.”

  Jenny tilted her head to the side and waited for further explanation. “You see, it might look like we were doing the same thing as them,” I cleared my throat, “but it’s not at all alike. You know that boys and girls are different; that Leo and Judah have a penis and Wren, you and me, well, we have a vagina. When you grow up and find someone you love and want to be with forever, then, Lord willing, you’ll get married. And then, and only then will you get to share your gift. In the meantime, the vagina and penis are just used for, well, bodily functions.”

  “You mean like peein’?” she asked.

  I didn’t want to get deep into female anatomy and explain the difference between a vagina and a urethra, so simply nodded. “And you’ll have changes happen in your body as you get older. You’re already having some changes,” I said, and pointed to her little budding breasts, “and here in a couple years, you’ll get some major changes. But we can talk about that later. I think we still have a while before that happens and only a few more minutes before the babies start waking up. But, just so you’re clear on this…”

  Jenny brightened up and offered her synopsis of my mini facts of life lesson. “You and Daddy don’t play rooster, but you do share your gifts, and no one else is supposed to watch. So if you want to do it, I have to go out to the barn or cover my head with a blanket.”

  “Well, we won’t make you go out to the barn again. That was as much for you and your grandparents to have a little party of your own as it was for your Daddy and me to have…er…um…our party. But if you wake up in the middle of the night, and it looks like your Daddy and I are sharing our gifts, please, don’t say anything. And yes, it would be very polite for you to cover your head and go back to sleep. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she replied simply, as if we had been making something big out of nothing. “Ooh, look, under here. The birds missed some berries. I’ll put my hands out and you can knock ‘em in.”

  I looked under the tangle of branches and saw the overloaded clusters. “Here, I’ll put my hands underneath and you knock them down with a stick. My hands are bigger and can hold more. And I don’t want you getting your hands scratched. It looks like we can have berries and cream for dessert tonight!”

  6 Who did it?

  “Did you do it or did Daddy do it?” Jenny asked as she peered around my elbow while I changed Wren’s diaper.

  “Do what?” I answered, as I continued to wipe the mustard-looking poopy mess from between the folds of the baby’s vulva.

  “Cut it off,” she said simply.

  “Oh, the little umbilicus just dries up and falls off after a week or so. See, it’s still a little red, but she has a pretty little belly button. Would you hand me that cloth, please?”

  I looked down at her as she placed the damp rag in my hand. There was something amiss with her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I didn’t mean about her belly button. I mean the other thing—the peanut.”

  I choked back a laugh. “The penis, you mean? She’s a girl and never had one. She was born like that, and you and I and Grannie were, too. Remember how I told you that boys and
girls were different? Well, that’s pretty much the main difference. I mean, we all have a heart and lungs.” I looked down and saw that I was losing her. “We all have arms and legs and a head and eyes…” I looked at her again to make sure she was following.

  Jenny was nodding her head thoughtfully. “So nobody chopped off my penis to make me a girl,” she said, stressing the word carefully to make sure she had it right.

  I nodded slowly three times, looking her in the eye to make sure she understood.

  “They lied to me!” she carped, then sniffed and ran out the door, leaving me with a fistful of crappy clout and a delighted Wren, happy to be bare-assed.

  7 Why did they lie to me?

  I found Jenny hiding—well, sort of—by the woodpile. She was whittling something, but looked very angry, as if she were pushing her rage through the little penknife’s blade into the toilet paper roll-sized piece of pine.

  “What’s wrong?” I almost asked if it was something I had said or done, but knew that she’d tell me the long version when she was ready.

  She put her carving aside, wiped the blade on her skirt, and folded it up. Then she put the knife on the back of her right hand and flipped it over, caught it, then repeated the trick with her left hand. Grandpa Jody had showed her how to play mumblety peg only last week. It looked as if she was already pretty good at it.

  She stopped showing off, and without even looking at me, asked, “Why do people lie?”

  I sat down on the chopping block next to her. “Look at me, please.” She did, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to see that face. I didn’t know that my sweet young girl could mix up anger and sadness so thoroughly. Shoot, I didn’t know anyone could. But she was right. Why did people lie?

  “I don’t know for sure. I mean, it’s not as if there’s a book of instructions where you look up a question and the answer is right there. We have a Bible and it has many great teachings in it. It says we’re not supposed to lie, but I don’t know if it says why people lie. I guess everyone has his own reasons. I mean, if I don’t know the answer to a question or a problem, I’m not afraid to say, ‘I don’t know,’ and ask someone for help, and you shouldn’t be either. But some people believe they would be admitting that they’re weak—as in not as good as another person—if they don’t understand. Do you understand?”