“Mom, Grandpa says I have a very beautiful body and figure.”
I slowly turned toward her.
“What did you say?”
“He says I’m special. And he wants me to show him something in his bedroom.”
My heart began pounding.
Then she whispered, “But I’m not supposed to tell you.”
I stared at her.
“Why, sweetheart?”
“Because Grandpa said you’d get upset and ruin everything.”
I forced myself to smile, although my hands were shaking.
“Emily, has Grandpa ever done anything that made you uncomfortable?”
She looked confused.
“No, Mommy. Why?”
I hugged her tightly.
“Sweetheart, you can always tell me anything. Nobody should ask you to keep secrets about your body.”
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
I remembered how Emily had recently started asking strange questions.
“Mom, am I pretty?”
“Mom, why do some girls look different?”
And one Sunday, she’d refused to let me wash her pink sweater.
