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"Really. Well, he better find the time," she said.

"Why are you picking on them? They're so defenseless. They've suffered enough. They . . ."

"You didn't have any qualms about taking advantage of them," Aunt Fern charged.

"We didn't take advantage. Gavin's been helping Luther with the chores and I've been cleaning the house and helping Aunt Charlotte with the meals and . . ."

"Oh, you're so wonderful. I keep forgetting. Morton," she cried. "Are you getting up?"

"I'm up, I'm up," he replied. "I need to use a bathroom. I want to wash and shave and . . ."

"Well find another one. We're going to be occupied in here for a while. The princess is going to do my fingernails, too," she said, smiling at me. "Right, princess?"

I didn't reply. I finished her toenails and turned away so she couldn't see my tears and be happy she was making me feel so horrible. I took a deep breath. They'll surely be on their way today, I thought, and then we'll be free of them. As far as I was concerned, I didn't care if I were free of my aunt Fern forever. In fact, that's what I wanted. I was sorry because I knew how much it would hurt Daddy to know that I hated his sister, but I couldn't help it.

Aunt Fern made me give her a manicure. She kept asking me detailed questions about Uncle Philip's sexual attack, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a reply and she finally stopped.

Afterward, I had to lay out her clothes. While she got dressed, she insisted I make the bed and tidy up in the bathroom. She enjoyed watching me work like a maid. Finally, we went down for breakfast. Her boyfriend was sitting at the table studying a road map when we entered the kitchen.

"Did you send Luther for fresh bread?" Aunt Fern demanded.

"I couldn't find him and your aunt's not much help," he replied. "She's out there with Gavin and Jefferson and some other guy painting the barn," Morton said. "Green," he added and laughed.

"Painting the barn green? I think we had better call the nearest insane asylum and ask them to make a pickup," Aunt Fern quipped.

"They're happy here, Aunt Fern, and they're not hurting anyone," I said.

"What do you say we go into town and have some breakfast at a restaurant," Morton said.

"We don't need to go into town. My niece can make eggs. She already proved she can make coffee. I like them a little wet," she ordered. "Not dry like pieces of paper. Well," she said when I didn't move quickly. "Feed us. Poor Morton's starving. What are you doing?" she asked, going to his side.

"Just figuring out the best way to get back on the main highways," he replied.

"We've got time," Aunt Fern said. "Don't you like your little holiday with the folks?" she joked.

"Sure," he said. "But how long do you want to stay?"

I held my breath.

"Until I get bored," she replied. "Besides," she added, smiling up at me, "we don't want to desert my poor niece just when she needs us the most, do we? Oh," she said. "You don't know why she ran away from home. Well, it seems one night . . ."

An egg slipped out of my hand and smashed on the floor.

"Aunt Fern!"

"Now look at what you've done," Aunt Fern said. "Miss Butterfingers. Well scoop it up, Christie. That can be yours," she said and laughed.

I glared at her, finally fed up enough to defy her, but one look at her face told me she was anxious for such a confrontation. She wanted the opportunity to make everyone's lives miserable, as miserab

le as her own. I bit down on my lower lip and swallowed my pride.

"Why did she run away?" Morton asked.

"Never mind," Aunt Fern said, looking down at me on my hands and knees. "It's private talk between a niece and her loving aunt, right princess?"

I soaked up the broken egg in a rag and tried to ignore her, but she wouldn't relent. She was the kind of person who enjoyed pouring salt into someone else's wounds. I should have realized she wouldn't feel sorry for me. There wasn't an ounce of compassion in her unless it was for herself.

"Right?" she insisted.