Enough to Miss Christmas

 I don't know," she answered. "I don't get to watch television, only special programs."

"How come?"

She shrugged. "Sister Rose says most programing on TV is bad and I guess Dad agrees." I bit my tongue not to voice an opinion as Karen added, "I don't have a computer either. There's too much inappropriate information on it too."

Who was this twelve years old who reads Cicero in his native language and was denied electronic access to the present day world? I sighed. "Tell me what other books you read." She rattled off a list of the classics, admirable to say the least, but nothing remotely age appropriate. "What about Nancy Drew?" I asked.

"Who's she?"

It was my turn not to answer. Instead, I rose, turned off the television, and walked to the door. "Let's wait for Thatcher downstairs," I said my frustration mounting.

"Are you going change into one of the new dresses? The bigger one might fit."

"Hell, no!" I held up my purse. "At least I'm wearing clean panties!"

I felt totally out of place behind the wheel of a large Mercedes but it handled like a dream. Paul had telephoned just before Thatcher arrived. Once again he apologized for not being available until late afternoon. Timmy was groggy and frightened of being alone so Paul was harnessed to his side. I would have gladly offered to spell him but that left Karen alone as she wouldn't enter the hospital. I told Paul the two of us were having far too much fun to need his attention. He sounded grateful and thanked me.

"Where should we go?" I asked. "I want to pick up everyday underwear and some jeans and a top. Where do you shop?"

"I don't. They get me things. Sometimes people come to the house and I get to choose colors." She brightened. "There's a mall down this road. I remember seeing it!"

"You don't get to shop?"

She shrugged. "There's lots of stuff I don't have to do."

"Don't you want to do it? Most kids your age practically live in the mall when they get the chance." She shrugged. "Don't your friends go there?" She slumped down and withdrew to silence that suggested what I didn't want to believe. This beautiful and intelligent young girl might not have any friends!

"Do you play any team sports? Dance lessons? Gymnastics?"

"No, but I work out. We have a personal trainer who comes to our gym. I run three miles on a treadmill, a couple of times a week." She twisted a curl of her long hair. "Do you work out? You look like you do."