For a moment his coolness and steady composure did throw her. I saw the confusion ripple through her face. Where was his shame, his fear, his guilt? Was she crazy? Was she the person doing something wrong?
Ian still had his hand on his cup invention and it was still under my budding breast. He hadn't even winced when she had shouted. He remained calm, waiting.
Grandmother Emma's mouth seemed unable to find words. It opened and closed, opened and closed, and for a moment, she looked like a fish out of water, gasping. She lowered her arms and took a step forward. "What do you think you're doing?" she managed.
Ian looked at me and then back at her, still holding the cup against me. "I'm keeping track of Jordan's precocious development to determine the effectiveness of the medication," he said.
"This is disgusting. This is... filthy and disgusting. Get away from her this instant and go to your room. Go on!" she shouted.
Ian took the cup away, but paused to write in his pad. Then he walked slowly out of the room, halting in the doorway and turning back to her.
"Scientific investigation is never disgusting, never filthy, but only in the minds of people who think that way themselves," he said.
Grandmother Emma's already reddened cheeks looked so crimson, it seemed a fire was burning in her mouth. "Don't you ever, ever come near your sister when she is undressed again," she warned. "This is sinful and incestuous and I will not have it under my roof. Do you understand?"
"No," Ian said. "I've never understood ignorance," he added, and went to
his room.
She stood there, literally shaking and looking after him for a few moments and then she burst forward and shut the door before turning to me.
"What else has he done to you or with you?" she asked. "I want you to tell me immediately, Jordan. You are not to lie to me, ever. What else?"
I shook my head. I was even too frightened to cry. My tears were stack somewhere behind my eyes. "Nothing else, Grandmother," I said.
"He touched you. Did he touch you?" She stepped up to the bed. "Well? Show me. Where did he touch you? Show me!" she shouted.
Finally, my tears, like water dammed up, burst forward and streamed freely down my cheeks.
"I know he gave you that filthy book to read, that book about sex. What else did he give you?"
"Nothing," I said. "Nothing."
"Don't you know something terrible could happen between the two of you? No, of course you don't know, she answered for herself. "Where are your pajamas?"
"Right there," I said, nodding at them on the chair where Ian had put them.
"Get them on immediately," she ordered.
She watched me get dressed. I crawled back into bed and quickly pulled the blanket up and under my chin.
She stood there, still staring at me. "What else has he done with you?" she asked again. "Where else has he touched you?"
I was afraid to tell her about his touching my nipple so I shook my head, but she was as good as the X-ray machine that had taken pictures of the inside of my head. She read lies.
"I know you're not telling me everything, Jordan. I know you're frightened, but you must never, never let him touch your body like that again. Do you understand? Do you?"
"Yes, Grandmother."
"I will have a discussion about this with your mother and father as soon as possible, but until then, he's not to come into your room unless I or some other adult is present as well. Is that clear, too?"
I nodded.
"I should have suspected something like this. A boy that age having no friends, not going to any parties, not belonging to any teams, spending all that time alone doing who knows what with himself. I should have known. I did know. In my heart. I knew but refused to admit it to myself. Your mother isn't all wrong about me. I do bury my head in the sand too much sometimes, but I won't anymore. I promise you that," she said, nodding with clear and firm
determination in her eyes.
She started for the door and then turned and looked back at me.