Enough to Miss Christmas

I wasn't sure how to respond. I turned the car back on the main road toward the ocean. "I thought you had nurses."

"I don't want to talk about that stuff." She immediately brightened. "I want to talk about our new house!" So that's what we discussed.

Once the main road was behind us, we began poking around the towns that lined the Atlantic coast north of the urban sprawl of Boston. We were both in a festive mood. I couldn't have been more pleased with my travailing companion who was thoroughly enjoying herself. Absent were those melancholy moods and periods of prolonged silence. Today, Karen was a chatterbox.

"What size house should we be looking for? I don't know much about where regular people live."

"Let's see. We need a nice big kitchen if you and I will be doing the cooking and a parlor for company plus a family room for playing games and things." Karen nodded enthusiastically. "You and Timmy should have your own bedrooms but you can share a bathroom. Your father and I need a bedroom with our own shower. The house should have porches for sitting out in the warm weather." I pointed to a large older colonial. "About that size, maybe a tad bigger."

Karen nodded. "How about a dining room?"

"That would be nice and perhaps a guest bedroom too, in case my sister Suzie comes to visit."

"Good, but none of those other rooms like our gym and music room and library. They're just opulent."

"We won't need servants' quarters if we don't have servants."

We stopped for a lunch of fried clams . . . a first for Karen, once again reminding me of the limits of this young lady's childhood. There was so much to life she was missing. After ice cream for dessert, we were back to cruising along the coast. At a break in the conversation, I expressed caution.

"If you go to a public school and begin mixing with people your own age, you're going to have to make a lot of adjustments."

"Like what?"

"The school will determine what grade you'll attend. Timmy too, if he attends."

We entered the ocean shore town of Summerside and slowly drove down its tree lined streets. I could smell the salt in the air.

"Timmy can already read and do addition," Karen said as she peered out the window. "Mr. Potter, his teacher, says he's very smart. I am too. Maybe I can go to high school like the girls in the books you gave me."

"I'm not concerned about either of you being up to your grade level. My concern is just the opposite. Pupils in your grade are not studying Greek and reading in Latin. You might very well qualify for high school classes but you wouldn't want to be an underage freak and not be able to mix with kids your own age."