Aunt Becka and Aunt Jane did not care for one another. That was why Aunt Becka lived with us at the Homeplace instead of the Aunt Jane Place where there would have been more room. Also Aunt Becka claimed we needed a mother. I would have preferred Aunt Jane or Flora for a mother, but Flora was always hurt for Aunt Becka’s sake when I said it. I was surprised then, when I found her crying in the loft after her engagement announcement. She said Aunt Becka had frightened her.

“How’d she fright you?”

“I cant talk about it,” Flora sobbed. “You aint old enough.”

“Well, then, I know what hit’s about. She was telling you scairdy things about men, werent she?”

When she wouldn’t answer, I knew I was right.

“You aint got no call to be scairt of Ben, do you? He’s just Ben.”

She sniffed. “Course I aint scairt of him.”

“Dont pay Aunt Becka no mind,” I said. “Aunt Jane says men are just too much for her.”

“Aunt Jane shouldnt say such things to you.”

“But hit’s true. And you know why? Hit’s because Aunt Becka aint got no hair between her legs.”

“Carrie Lee! Why ever would you say such a thing?”

I knew to shut up, that this piece of information should have been kept to myself. I had learned it by accident. We never saw Aunt Becka naked, for she jealously guarded her privacy. The Homeplace consisted of one large room and a smaller loft reached by steps on the outside of the cabin. We children slept in the loft during the warm months. In winter we spread our featherbeds on the floor before the hearth and wrapped ourselves in our mother’s multicolored quilts. Daddy slept in the four-poster in one corner. If strangers stayed overnight, we got under the covers and pulled off our clothes. But if it was just us, we stripped down without a thought—until we started growing hair. It happened first to Miles, then to Flora, and I waited expectantly for it to happen to me. Then I saw Aunt Becka.

Aunt Becka’s bed stood in the corner beside the supper table. At night she draped quilts from the rafters so she could undress alone. Even in the heat of summer she slept behind the wall of quilts. She was equally secretive about her bath. We had to all troop outside when she was bathing. In good weather we sat on the front porch until she was done. In the wintertime we saved our outside chores until Aunt Becka’s Bathtime, as we came to call it. It was then I saw her naked. Daddy and Miles were cleaning out the stables and Flora was gathering eggs. I sneaked to the window, scratched a clearing on the frosty pane with my fingernail, and looked in. I didn’t expect to see anything unusual; I did it because Aunt Becka didn’t want me to. Then I saw that Aunt Becka was hairless.